An Eagle Calls Unseen

On the other shore, opposite to us sitting here,

coffee-laden, staving off sleep and staring out, unseeing,

we hear his cry, sharp and short, calling out, unseen,

echoing in the morning air still and undisturbed;

alerted thus, we scan the treetops, searching,

our watchful eyes vigilant and magnified, focusing

for a glimpse of white revealed against the stark blue

of a summer’s morning, revealing him, his aery nest,

his rising up, wings stretched out and beating back

the morning, lifting up to soar above us sitting here,

earthbound, sluggish, dreaming and searching

for our own eagle’s flight to take us away,

our spirits lifted by a glimpse of white

disappearing in the silence of the lake broken

by his calling, sharp and short, a call echoing

in the morning air still and undisturbed.