A White Tail Feather

The still of the lake calms my soul
I wait beneath the willow.
A breeze moves through her branches
lightly touching my face,
sweeping the hair from my eyes.
An Eagle calls in the distance.

My mind races with pictures and words,
adventures and quests of self and we.
Along the horizon lined with dark blue waters
bursts colors of red and orange.
I offer my asemaa.
An Eagle glides above calling my name.

Morning rises as I answer my old friend.
A gentle ripple forms on the lake
as the wind delivers our greetings to the other.
His calls are carried to my open arms.
His words pass through me.
I hear the call of an Eagle leaving with the wind.

He lands on the broken arm of an ash
on the sands of the shore near the willow.
Praising me for walking the path
many have guided me towards for years.
A choice of life destined to be.
My first tracks are laid down.

He lifts his wings and stretches
to a magnificent size of honor and respect
wisdom and truth with humility.
He tells me to listen and be open
to what crosses my path
for this is just the beginning.

Rising with every flap of his powerful wings
he lifts into the blue sky calling his goodbye.
I answer with gratitude and love
as I notice something lying on a rock.
He has left for me a piece of him
a white tail feather.

This poem is for One Shot Wednesday held by One Stop Poetry. To read other peoples works click here

Ziibi~ June 11~The Prize

The Prize

Three good friends canoe down the Kinni
Each with their own bag of thoughts.

They navigate through Clapping Waters
All ready to share the contents of their bags
Two being fuller than one
They begin with the artist.

When all of a sudden in mid sentence
Time stops…
The powers of Nature are among them
Before any of them see her
They hear the air between her wings.

The fisherman in the rear
Only noticed the fish.
The artist in the front
Only saw the bird.
The dreamer in the center
Wide eyed, witnessed the marvel of both.

An Eagle great in essence and size came from above
Diving down to the surface of calm waters
A little ahead of the trio
Grabbing a huge trout in her claws
Hovering over the water
Flapping her powerful wings
Gathering her strength
Then flying away with her prize.

Dedicated to Brandy Brenna
©River June ‘10