WILD POLITICS

 

 

The eagles have displaced the crows
on the power pole, singly claimed
the overlook of rising feed saved back

for weaning calves, to fall from,
flap and glide close to the ground
squirrel towns submerged in green.

Short skirmish, the eagle fell with one
black wing outstretched beyond
its taloned grasp deep into the grass.

I think I understand wild politics,
its guiltless traits, its territories
and borders, our totems changing.

How humbled were we when
the golden birds chose us
to entertain at dawn and dusk,

but beak and claw I never saw,
just two sets of wings lifting off
in opposite directions. High

at the head of Ragle Canyon
in the granite outcrop, she waits
to be relieved to feed herself.

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s