Some Mornings

Some mornings

when I feel life resting firmly on my shoulders like

a broad pair of paws, dark and confident

my heart moves like a freshly hatched golden-eagles chick

shaking its head, staggering, plumage drying in soft cold air

opening its bold clotty eyes to this world again

peeking over the twig fortress of the lofty eyrie

high upon steep rock-walls

towards a motionless horizon

down a dwindling abyss

raising its voice, again, for the first little cry

calling for strong wings and claws and

these determined relentless beaks

knowing they come

knowing they come to feed, to feed

and everything

all this world

and all maturing

this great vortex of coming and going

is inevitably urging towards this moment

this moment

What a curious strong nest to grow in

but the vortex does not stop

so now again: all in, all in

you jerking piece of flesh: towards this moment!

Squeeze your tongue into the mouth of this Earth

Press your ear against the soul of this Earth