	AERIE by Emily M. Parris Eagles build an aerie High up in a tree When they intend to mate And begin a family Pine branches and grass Make the nest very soft For the eaglets that shortly Will live there aloft In early spring the eggs are laid The mother keeps them warm While the father brings food to her Staying nearby ready to warn After thirty days or so The tiny eaglets hatch With their scrawny fluffy feathers They don't seem much of a match For their regal parents standing there With a proud and noble beak Who are able to soar upon the wind For anything that they seek The tiny babies look so helpless Disheveled and forlorn But for a noble future The tiny eaglets were born Both parents are now very busy For their babies are hungry each day To find sufficient food for them They both may fly away The eaglets grow and stay within Their nest up in the air Stretching their wings and growing Plucking out soft downy hair But soon they are ready For a life in the air And the happy proud parents Are standing right there The mother eagle pushes them Gently out of the nest For with her motherly instinct She knows it's for the best They fall and in a state of shock They somehow find their wings And they learn of flying as The air beneath them sings They fly because they are eagles And soaring high is their fate For the glorious life of an eagle Is a fine and noble estate Copyright 6/2/93 by Emily M. Parris THE SEEDS OF EAGLES By Dan McCarron Copyright 1996 From on high the sandstone crag she perched, Her figure lean and brown. Her lifelong mate beside her Equally deserving of a crown. She was older than her mate, Fifteen winters she had seen; Her figure was immaculate And her mind superbly keen. He was as equally formed Though smaller, just as bold For there is no place for weakness In the winter wasteland cold. As morning grew they roused and stretched, He turned and preened. He could see the frost on his lady's back As it sparkled and gleamed. Where should we travel today they thought, As they sat upon the icy block. Historically they had hunted From Pine Butte to Camel Rock. The day was new, the sun was bright, The snow-iced prairie glowing. They could not see a sign of life, Just feel the cold wind blowing. It was the male that ascended first, His flight strong and wings so purely sprawled, Ringing, ringing, ringing high As if God Himself had called. He looked at her with telepathic eyes His vision a piercing stare. She glanced at him and roused once more, As steam trickled out her nares. He stooped above her lovely form With content she glared at him. Will you come and join me, love, Let us float above the rim. Her sails unfolded, she left the rock, Again she rose once more. Lifting up until she too Was headed for heaven's door. Over Cooper's Rim they soared Onto the frozen southern plains. Hunting as they road the wind Feeling life's hunger pangs. Their bond was strong, their purpose one, Nature's way is formed with care. They say a golden eagle is not an eagle Unless it is a pair. Together they flew with a sharp set watch, Over a partly new domain they swept. For in the dead of winter Their home was not as neatly kept. He put in on an old pole Along a forgotten road. She in turn watched from above For this was their hunting code. He sat upon the weathered wood With his surveying eye. She stayed above her watchful mate, Scanning from on high. With folded wings she dropped to earth, A thousand yards away. Her body language told him She had her mind on prey. She melted down behind a hill Along a broken fence row. By the time he had followed, A vixen's blood had stained the snow. Today the pair would eat and live. God's vision is His own. For in this winter wasteland The seeds of eagles are sown. Dan McCarron: THE EAGLE by Emily M. Parris The eagle is a magnificent bird. Who soars with graceful ease. He's a symbol of our heritage. As he glides upon the breeze. He's a symbol of our freedom. In his soaring boundless flight. A beacon for humanity. And a splendid, noble sight. His huge wingspan maneuvers him. In boundless soaring flight. Oh eagle, in your majesty. May we follow you tonight. May we soar like eagles on the wings. Of dreams composed of light. Oh, eagle, in your splendor. May we follow you tonight Copyright by Emily M. Parris The Dalliance of the Eagles by Walt Whitman Skirting the river road, (my forenoon walk, my rest,)Skyward in air a sudden muffled sound, the dalliance of the eagles,The rushing amorous contact high in space together,The clinching interlocking claws, a living, fierce, gyrating wheel,Four beating wings, two beaks, a swirling mass tight grappling,In tumbling turning clustering loops, straight downward falling,Till o'er the river pois'd, the twain yet one, a moment's lull,A motionless still balance in the air, then parting, talons loosing,Upward again on slow-firm pinions slanting, their separate divorce flight,She hers, he his, pursuing. But you never were made, as I, On the wings of the winds to fly! The Eagle said. WILL CARLETON

AERIE

by Emily M. Parris

Eagles build an aerie High up in a tree When they intend to mate And begin a family

Pine branches and grass Make the nest very soft For the eaglets that shortly Will live there aloft

In early spring the eggs are laid The mother keeps them warm While the father brings food to her Staying nearby ready to warn

After thirty days or so The tiny eaglets hatch With their scrawny fluffy feathers They don't seem much of a match

For their regal parents standing there With a proud and noble beak Who are able to soar upon the wind For anything that they seek

The tiny babies look so helpless Disheveled and forlorn But for a noble future The tiny eaglets were born

Both parents are now very busy For their babies are hungry each day To find sufficient food for them They both may fly away

The eaglets grow and stay within Their nest up in the air Stretching their wings and growing Plucking out soft downy hair

But soon they are ready For a life in the air And the happy proud parents Are standing right there

The mother eagle pushes them Gently out of the nest For with her motherly instinct She knows it's for the best

They fall and in a state of shock They somehow find their wings And they learn of flying as The air beneath them sings

They fly because they are eagles And soaring high is their fate For the glorious life of an eagle Is a fine and noble estate

Copyright 6/2/93 by Emily M. Parris

THE SEEDS OF EAGLES

By Dan McCarron
Copyright 1996
From on high the sandstone crag she perched, Her figure lean and brown. Her lifelong mate beside her Equally deserving of a crown. She was older than her mate, Fifteen winters she had seen; Her figure was immaculate And her mind superbly keen. He was as equally formed Though smaller, just as bold For there is no place for weakness In the winter wasteland cold. As morning grew they roused and stretched, He turned and preened. He could see the frost on his lady's back As it sparkled and gleamed. Where should we travel today they thought, As they sat upon the icy block. Historically they had hunted From Pine Butte to Camel Rock. The day was new, the sun was bright, The snow-iced prairie glowing. They could not see a sign of life, Just feel the cold wind blowing. It was the male that ascended first, His flight strong and wings so purely sprawled, Ringing, ringing, ringing high As if God Himself had called. He looked at her with telepathic eyes His vision a piercing stare. She glanced at him and roused once more, As steam trickled out her nares. He stooped above her lovely form With content she glared at him. Will you come and join me, love, Let us float above the rim. Her sails unfolded, she left the rock, Again she rose once more. Lifting up until she too Was headed for heaven's door. Over Cooper's Rim they soared Onto the frozen southern plains. Hunting as they road the wind Feeling life's hunger pangs. Their bond was strong, their purpose one, Nature's way is formed with care. They say a golden eagle is not an eagle Unless it is a pair. Together they flew with a sharp set watch, Over a partly new domain they swept. For in the dead of winter Their home was not as neatly kept. He put in on an old pole Along a forgotten road. She in turn watched from above For this was their hunting code. He sat upon the weathered wood With his surveying eye. She stayed above her watchful mate, Scanning from on high. With folded wings she dropped to earth, A thousand yards away. Her body language told him She had her mind on prey. She melted down behind a hill Along a broken fence row. By the time he had followed, A vixen's blood had stained the snow. Today the pair would eat and live. God's vision is His own. For in this winter wasteland The seeds of eagles are sown.
Dan McCarron:

THE EAGLE

by Emily M. Parris

The eagle is a magnificent bird. Who soars with graceful ease. He's a symbol of our heritage. As he glides upon the breeze. He's a symbol of our freedom. In his soaring boundless flight. A beacon for humanity. And a splendid, noble sight. His huge wingspan maneuvers him. In boundless soaring flight. Oh eagle, in your majesty. May we follow you tonight. May we soar like eagles on the wings. Of dreams composed of light. Oh, eagle, in your splendor. May we follow you tonight
Copyright by Emily M. Parris

The Dalliance of the Eagles

by Walt Whitman

Skirting the river road, (my forenoon walk, my rest,)Skyward in air a sudden muffled sound, the dalliance of the eagles,The rushing amorous contact high in space together,The clinching interlocking claws, a living, fierce, gyrating wheel,Four beating wings, two beaks, a swirling mass tight grappling,In tumbling turning clustering loops, straight downward falling,Till o'er the river pois'd, the twain yet one, a moment's lull,A motionless still balance in the air, then parting, talons loosing,Upward again on slow-firm pinions slanting, their separate divorce flight,She hers, he his, pursuing.
But you never were made, as I, On the wings of the winds to fly! The Eagle said.
WILL CARLETON