The eagle

An afternoon lull 
 A soaring eagle slowly folds his wings
coming down to rest awhile on a jutting rock
Around him, a busy ocean sprawls
sending wave after wave crashing
onto a long suffering shore

He looks around
the sea breeze ruffling some white neck feathers
shakes himself as if to break free of the hypnotising
lure of the sand and sea
crouches down, his sharp eyes ever alert
to a slight movement among the reefs
and there he goes, like a heady zephyr
soaring off into the call of the wild
no time for him too
‘to stand and stare’
and ‘miles to go before his day sleeps’

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