The Eagle

by Ivy Hockenberry aged 13

His wings are like wide fans,
his eye is as blue as the sky he flies in.
His beak is as gold as a king’s crown,
his talons are as sharp as a winter wind.
He holds his noble head high, as if he were
looking down on the Earth in scorn.
In the air he is brave and swift, but on land he is scared and slow.
He is the symbol of greatness.

The Poetry Zone

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