eagles perched high on an crooked, dead cedar off the old island.
so stern. looking, powerful, mighty.
i was walking along a path , it followed the shoreline but was tucked under the high canopy of the forest.
a small wren flew in and about the brush, often swoopin past my legs, in front and behind me.
i've stopped and watched a chic- a- dee as it hopped along a branch and curiously approached me, cocking its head from side to side, an arms length away.
walking out onto the rocks, i hear the chirp of an eagle high in the trees, i walk toward it hoping to get a closer look, but it sees me and drops from the treetop, spreading its grand wingspan and flying opposite my direction, to another tree higher, further away.
so easily startled, this mighty bird of prey.
yet the smallest of song birds, will consider eating seeds from my palm.