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Feathered Tears
I spied a bald eagle using the wind
To hunt for his prey.
He wandered afar as to leave my eyesight
Then soared with the wind
Back within my yearning eyes.
I wondered about what he saw
Not a cloud in the sky.
When I felt wet droplets pelting my face
He was crying I'm sure for
The total disgrace.
The struggle his downy chicks had to endure
While we fought each war.
While we wasted his land.While we let our greed
Get out of hand.
He circled away and the droplets subsided
Then he returned and I was soaked
On this clear sunny day.
With the grief that he felt
I am sure.
He let me know that he could not endure
The ravage we reek.
In the land of the free
And the home of the brave.
poem
by
John Shea
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