by J. Randal Matheny © 2011
The eagle soared against the bluest sky,
He rode the winds, which carried his sharpened cry,
With outstretched wings, he dipped and rose with ease,
A master musician playing the slightest breeze.
Below, the poultry scratched the dirt for corn,
For grub and seeds, on ground well beaten and worn,
To chickens such flight seemed risky and extreme,
They never dared to lift their eyes and dream.