I feel the luckiest when driving down the way
Them naked branches dancing with the wind
Two eagles sway, watching the crack cold morning
Furry food, runs from the wet sunlight rays
To mossy aromatic dens.
The two will meet higher than the tree tops
In the February mist that hangs above the ripples
Of the slow meandering river
Screeching and soaring obscenities as they race
Together towards the dormant earth.
Witness to the balancing act we call life
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem