She lifts from the hill with slow flaps of her wings,
Seeking out heights where the eye alone reigns,
Where nothing sings, no odours ever steal,
The predator prowling round for a meal.
There she dissects the landscape for her prey,
Some hare in a paddock licking its paw.
Cloaked in the mighty shoulders of a swimmer,
She dives down the sky and shatters its summer.
Sometimes I glimpse her while I’m driving past,
Colossal and shabby, perched on a post,
Then in a flash I see how she sees me,
Too big for a hare and gone at high speed.
I often see eagles around where I live. There are lots of pastures here and they like to perch on fence posts.