The eagles joy is the same as mine,
As they soar in the air above mankind!
Just to view the sighs I choose to see,
Searching for things that may please me.
To be one with the forces of nature,
and be guided by a spirit much greater...
When I cry out in shrieks of joy,
Will those below wish my wings were their toy?
In my search for prey or in the wind for pleasure,
My frights will be swift and each one I will treasure.
Come night, I will rest and wait for tomorrow,
to soar again above the earthbound sorrow.
In my fights, perhaps, you have spotted me,
and wished my place you would rather be.
Myy spirit is with these birds of joy,
Who use the wind as only a toy.
I a that eagle.... only in my poems,
On earth I must dwell and call it my home,
It is when i see these birds of splendor
My thoughts of flight entice me to surrender.
The earthbound ways a human must be
Only eagles in flight can ever be free.
But when I pass on, and I am laid to rest,'
My spirit will be found in an eagles nest.
John G. Peters, 1992
POEMS FOR THE JOY OF IT