I was too focused on the trail
and, studying the path,
nearly walked past
the eagle perched on a low branch
(as much a sentinel as any soldier)
not ten feet away, watching me
I wonder how much I’ve missed
by forgetting to look up
but when I look for birds
I look with my ears
I listen for their call
and I watch for shadows
(raptors cast big ones )
I’m always looking down
sometimes, when the air is still
and I’m sitting on a bench
watching the river
the ospreys emerge
flying out from stick nests
to fish for their breakfast
birds are opportunistic
even when we’ve stolen all the trees
they find a way to nest
and fly and feed
sometimes our encroachment helps
like the Carolina wrens
that built a home
inside my dilapidated shed
(we took the doors off
so we could get the bikes out)
there’s an entire world up there
where the crows perch
and the chimney swifts chitter
unable to perch
circling in endless loops
airborne, forever
I’m not saying I’m jealous
birds have a hard life, a short life
but flying must make up
for all that hardship,
right?