Ode to an Eaglet June 2011, Wyoming
I saw your nest high above the Wyoming fields. Your mother resplendent and perched over your still live sibling, now the sole heir to her nest, her food, her beak.
You lie still amidst the prairie grasses in a secluded spot where post and wire dissect the fields in moist pools from overflowing spring melt river banks and the toil of beavers.
Now your small wheat colored corpses lies with its small beak and claws and lifeless eyes gazing perpetually into the bright azure sky.
The coyotes brought you here to their bone garden. They lay you down next to the buff and white colored antelope hide. It is your new nest of wind and sun and bones against ground. Your song is silence. You must withstand the prairie winds, let them caress nuzzle and sing to you this Wyoming Lullaby.