The Eagle's Call

Eagle's Call

Drowning out the lion's roar, 

As an eagle flies toward the shore, 

Sailing on the wind over the ocean, 

And opens his beak in one quick, swift motion, 

He closes his eyes and lets the sound travel through him,

As the moon sinks down and begins to grow dim, 

The eagle's call, the call of peace,

The eagle's call brings opportunity 

https://www.audubon.org/field-guide/bird/bald-eagle

The Smell of the Morning.

Have you ever thought of the smell of the morning? Or about the smell of the rising sun. Wait a minute; the sun doesn't have a smell, does it? Well, scientifically, no. But, in poetry, a comet can have a smell if you just imagine. This is my interpretation of the smell of the morning:                                 

                                    The Smell of the Morning

The smell of the morning, 

The dew on the grass, 

It smells of the rains that silently passed, 

The smell of the sun, 

Of resting bread dough, 

The heart of a flame, 

From where a fire grows

The smell of fresh color, 

On the newly-painted home, 

The metallicity of the smell stands out,

Like a lone garden gnome, 

In a pitiful fairy garden, 

The smell of breakfast, 

Wafting through the breeze, 

Of pancakes and bacon, 

Just out of reach

The light of the morning,

The moon’s last beam, 

It allows the sun to wake you up from this dream