The eagle

After Psalm 61

I watched it circle

in front of the sun,

the heat searing.

I watched it flying

high, swooping low,

soaring and descending,

coming closer to my form

in the sand.

The sun was darkened

as it flew closer, so close

I could hear feathers

and wings pushing 

against the wind, so close

I smelled the scent

of heated feathers, so close

I was wrapped in shade,

the shelter of wings,

and I thought

the eagle had landed.

Photograph by Mathew Schwartz vis Unsplash. Used with permission.