Eagle Poem

Twice now
I’ve seen an eagle
flying over the highway
north of the city.

Once when I was northbound,
its white head clear as day;
once when I was southbound,
its flight distinctive as its colors

which I was
unsurprised to see
included no
red or blue.

Nothing patriotic
in the clouds behind.
No hint of war or profit
under its wings.

That’s one big, beautiful bird,
I told myself. That’s one
joy I’d like to see more of
every day.

I keep my eyes open for it
when I drive to and from
my job trying to hold
some hope, however small,

that what is
true and clean
will not perish
from the earth.