East of the river, we spent some time

in town meandering vacant lots where

only daffodils mark archaeological remains

foundations, the odd driveway

 

past the canals with their white drape

of Franklin gulls an eagle sits

his favorite tree the two of them

both brown

 

the tree dying the eagle growing

into his feathers, perhaps a three year old

not yet capped like the mountains

of Denali or Orizaba

 

on the return trip time has sped

so that the tree upriver now hosts

an eagle mature in all his majesty

taking time away

 

from a nest to bask in last sun

before ferrying fish back to the south

for shredding into hungry maws

beak and talon poised

 

Which is more eagle then?

That sub-adult waiting to be crowned

or the mantled veteran who comes yearly?

Do they differ, the watch, the wait?