|Bald Eagle by Barry Spruce|
by Jay Sturner
See the eagle spread his wings,
soar across the sky of white dreams.
Watch as a million arms reach
for a falling feather on the breeze.
See the elders shake their hair,
fling an old song to the four seas.
Watch as oiled machines
plow through red clay and sky.
We of this country burn with the hope
of softening our heart’s history,
yet polish our cups of tarnished gold,
strike with hot guns and false tongues.
We drive stakes into the skin of Earth,
hang our hats on melting icebergs.
How long till we clip the eagle’s wings?
Stick him in a cage all fat and tame?