American Bald Eagle

Eagle screams

Photo by Mark Seth Lender

Eagle Poem

To pray open your whole self
To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon
To one whole voice that is you
And know there is more
That you can't see, can't hear
Can't know except in moments
Steadily growing, and in languages
That aren't always sound but other
Circles of motion.
Like eagle that Sunday morning
Over Salt River. Circled in blue sky
In wind, swept our hearts clean
With sacred wings.
We see you, see ourselves and know
That we must take the utmost care
And kindness in all things.
Breathe in, knowing we are made of
All this, and breathe, knowing
We are truly blessed because we
Were born, and die soon within a
True circle of motion,
Like eagle rounding our the morning
Inside us.
We pray that it will be done
In beauty.
In beauty.

--Joy Harjo

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Field Notes

I was able to walk almost up to the tree where the Bald Eagle had come to rest. Under an overcast sky, the day fading, he watched as I set my tripod and found him in the lens. He let me take three coarse frames. Then he cried as eagles do and flew, up toward the ridgeline. Three days later lightning hit the nest tree, the entire crown crashing to the forest floor. He stood guard for days after, sole survivor of an entire family, mate and two fledglings nearly old enough to fly.

--Mark Seth Lender

Birds & Bards