Summits
watch
as carob cuts clouds
parting for the eagle
approaching the summit,
wings weather
the accruing chill
with apathetic familiarity,
eyes, rimmed gold,
reflecting azure sky,
combat the sun’s ferocity,
it ascends the tips
of mountain peaks,
plunges, becomes a cold,
whispering
streak,
its corded body crumples
against the canopy of trees,
beak upturned,
submits to its last voyage,
plummet paints the path
for its approach to
another summit.
4 thoughts on "Summits"
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I can see the eagle shape of your poem parting the clouds.
Thank you! And haha, that’s true (and if you turn your head to the side, the poem’ll become the mountain the eagle’s flying around).
I love the imagery and shape of this poem, both of which make your story come to life! I especially enjoyed “accruing chill/with apathetic familiarity” and “reflecting azure sky/combat the sun’s ferocity.”
Thanks so much, Katrina — glad you liked it!