Monday, January 16, 2017

Thanks for talking eagles, KHOI

Thank you, Greta Anderson​ and Pat Schlarbaum​ of the Iowa DNR for talking bald eagles and poetry with us this morning on KHOI Community Radio​! "Local Talk" will be on again today at 12 and 7. Below are the poems I read on the air, and one that just showed up this morning. Submit your words on eagles this month at http://www.iowabirdofmouth.com/ Anyone, anywhere can contribute regardless of age, writing style, or publication history. *Pat assures us that eagles do not kill livestock, deer or anything much bigger than a fish.
***
Bald
Awesome
Lively
Denominators
Ever so amazing
As chill as ice
Glamorous
Living to the fullest
Eye-sight of a telescope
Survivors
Driving gravel on an arctic Sunday,
we came up over a crest and saw blood
smeared across the snow, gore
lining the muddy road through the field,
and three young eagles tearing apart
two deer they'd either found or killed*.
Mom and dad hung back on the hill,
watching us slow to take pictures
of their gigantic babies, bibs and beaks
red as the partridge berries that popped
from those ditches in March, spiked head
feathers fanned out, lethal goofballs
babble and bawk-bawking. "Family day,"
you declared. "Better than a trip
to Disneyland if you're an eagle," I said,
squinting into the white horizon for more
witnesses, more spring, more life.
BALD EAGLES IN A FIELD
She was almost gone at that point,
enough so we could start to make plans.
Bright for a February near Fish Town,
Skagit Bay another sun on the earth
shining upwards. On our way for groceries,
we saw one eagle in a field, then another.
I had never seen two bald eagles together
like that, and it felt like I sign, something
that would shift things forever, but it wasn’t
really, it was just a moment, dad and daughter
pulled over in the car, silent and breathing
for an singular instance before all we knew
took flight.
FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD TERRIER LIVES TO YAP ANOTHER DAY
Spudge contemplates
the statuesque
visage on a high limb
above the river.
The white hooded
gangster spies the Spudge
along the shore.
Trout dog, anyone?

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