White Breast

It was the white breast of the raptor,
stoic in the aged tree
sitting motionless,
drinking in the light of the sun
the warmth of its rays,
high up in the canopy of the lone elm,
bare of leaves this morning
next to the interstate, ready for the
heat to create thermals to soar on
All of us turned to look, as I curved
off the exit ramp, the cloverleaf
Keeping our eyes on the regal bird
perched in the tree

November 5, 2006 16:09


All of my poems are copyrighted by Raymond A. Foss, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012. All rights reserved. Contact me at Ray Foss for usage. See all 19,010+ of my poems at http://www.raymondafoss.blogspot.com Poetry Where You Live.