And the Chortling Sharp-Eyed Eagle
A bald eagle chortles from his roost
along the spit separating U.S. land
from Canadian land in Washington state.
By PAUL HERTELENDY
The sun explodes in rays above the massive snow-capped peaks,
Soon swallowed by dense pillow clouds that remonstrate,
"Go home, this days not yours,
As grays and wets of ours inevitably demonstrate."
We walk the dotted line that marks the national frontier
Through dense fern forests evergreen
And watch the spindly-legged herons
Stepping with their egg-shell caution
In the tranquil shallows fishing,
Swallowing in single gulps
The way your mom forbade you then,
When chewing was a mandate, not an option.
The grazing deer pay scant attention to the humans
Entering a soggy realm, their own,
Where slugs provide the major traffic on the pathways,
Scrupulous in heeding every speed zone.
Now the drizzle starts
Although we're still a half-hour's trek from breakfast.
And like the rain-resistant locals, we forwent umbrellas.
Gradually we're soaked, and cold, and starved,
Still distant from the portal,
Inspiring stern bald eagle on his lofty snag
To cease his spying on Canadians
To look bemused on us and chortle.
---Northern Washington coast
bordering on wilderness and Canada
©2012 by Paul Hertelendy. This column first posted June 18, 2012.
Paul Hertelendy is critic and webmaster for the arts-review web site www.artssf.com, and is also the Piedmont (CA) Centennial poet laureate. To visit his website, click here: PAUL
You can comment on this column online. Please address your email message to either "The Editors" or Paul Hertelendy at : Syndpack @aol.com
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