The Eagle Poem by Bryce Edward Coast

He grasps the cloud with piercing hands
Close to the sun in lonely lands
Crowned, in blinding glare, he stands

Regal specter in the sky
Perched atop a throne so high
He scans below with keenest eye

Through the meadowlands, he seeks
Sees far from snowy mountain peaks
What roars and whatever that squeaks

Any subtle change he senses
Bold facade shows no pretenses
What impends, there's no defenses

Tension gathers like a storm
Heart rates pace now past the norm
His prey can feel his phantom form

The lucent sky, transforms to night
The target quarry's locked in sight
His wings, beseech and he takes flight

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls
He rises over shrouded walls
Then like a thunderbolt, HE FALLS!