Elegy of the Dawn

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Eagles break upon jagged stones

Far -- far below their coiled Winter nests,

And their offspring coo in bagpipe drones

As the grey clusters shadow the eve’s tarp.

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Dost Thou bend thy ear untosuch tunes --

Far more mournful than cricket strings plucked

To the chords of the waxing Hunchback

As it’s harp song trails downy cloaked pleas?

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Or hast Thou shunned the flightless specks

Caged upon the scarred Sycamore limbs;

Wee babes burdened by permeating parasites

Of Time, devoured by the termite Disease?

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But lo’ they beat -- lacking primary strength --

Their curved skeletons unto the Almighty Thee,

Beseeching smoky heavens for twinkling symbols,

That beyond the bleak expanse breathes fair light.

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For Steven, who is battling brain cancer . . .