Cousins? Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Cousins?

Both groups had feathers,
Can I call them cousins?

At my job, I observed,
Some crows, and eagles.

First, flew, hopped, and sat,
Both alone, and in mass.

On garbage, in the trash,
On the wall, on a branch,
In the yards, plain lands…

The second flew high,
They circled in the sky.

I stood silently,
My jaw fell, kept looking,
Full of joy, was pleased.

The crows, suspicious,
And proud were eagles.

Saw crows picking junk,
But eagles waited long.

At the end, one of them,
Descended like a plane.

In no time, it climbed,
I felt shocked, surprised,
It had a fish in its claws.

The prey, fresh, alive,
Kept fighting for its life,
It struggled with all might.

Felt bubbles in my veins,
My questions unanswered:
"Can one be right, or wrong?
Seeking a life? Wanting pride? "