Poetry: The Eagle (and some random pictures)

We were going past

in a car of green.

Oh! So very fast!

When I saw you there.

Your head was of white

though yourself darkly wondrous.

Your eyes filled with light,

and feathers ruffled in the wind

I stopped, went far back.

I still saw you there

sitting in the trees so wintry black.

I grabbed that camera and went.

I walked across the grass,

not minding how far I went.

The wind blew in great blasts

pulling at my hair so long.

It was cold and wet,

though what did I care?

Your eyes I saw, felt we met,

if only for a moment there.

I raised my camera and I saw

you, reflected, in the lens. 

In the distance, a crow cawed

I snapped, one, only one.

Then, you lifted your wings of might,

while letting out a great cry.

Then flew! What a sight!

Your great wings lifting you.

You flapped up so high,

my eyes following you.

Now soaring into the sky,

most magnificent, it's true.

I watched your great wings

catch the blast that blew my hair,

the kind of blast that sings.

'Twas a magical moment there.

I never had felt that way before,

when you neared the horizon

and over it I watched you soar.

I felt I had wings, I was rising.

I envy you, my wonderful friend.

You are wild and free and strong.

Could you to me your being lend?

For you are so beautifully fierce.

You have a light in your eyes

no human has, or ever will,

and the sound of your cries

are as wild and free

as I want to be.