Two Eagles
To Susan Scott
janine canan
Below the mountain white and solitary
we stretch out on the emerald hill,
emptying our bottle of flowery champagne.
Walking the watery shore we spot
on the upper branch of a fir high on the cliff
two eagles big as humans.
She's shy, you say as yards of black wing
spread across the sky. And he turns his large
gold-beaked head to watch her fly.
