That eagle likes to sit on wood,
seize it with his bladed fists.
Rotting meat's preferable to him;
it takes less tearing, saves wear
on his old yellow beak. His
eyesight's fine. He likes to read
the waters and the fields,
great stories in which food moves.
When snow comes there's not much to do
but remember and, occasionally, shriek.
hans ostrom 2015