The Eagle

Wiser minds than I have observed, yet never uttered
Such is the wonder of the Eagle's first flight
Devouring in majesty, that great King throned by th'ethereal sky so that
God himself thought it a beauty to behold
as he circles his subjects

Yet an eye or two, should full attention be turned
To that spectral dance
That doth break the sky with grandeur
And that circle, ever lower becomes a prelude,
Luring to the beast.

Teasing the dormouse that crouches in the golden corn,
The crack, snap, droop of the neck that turns in an instant
King into traitor,
So that the Lord himself, in all his forgiveness must renounce such a flaw.

No more are the ropes we entangle in the Eagle's fate
Than the threads of angel wings, foolishly adored.