Sovereign Eagle

A pale sky, a winter hush on the wind,

Branches like fingers, catching the dim light.

A sovereign on a bare limb, eyes bright as ice,

Watching the field below through frost and time.

The valley wears a quiet crown of gray,

Breath fogs in moth-wings of the morning day.

Silent snow quilts the stubborn ground,

The eagle holds the charge of wind half-found.

Ice-lace on wing, the cold holds its breath,

Every heartbeat drums for a season’s depth.

Soar, above the frost-born city of trees,

Glide through the pale blue-gray of the breeze.

Eyes like stars in a winter dawn,

King of the bare, sovereign and strong.

Leaves relinquished, the forest wears a scar,

Echoes of summer tucked in every scar.

The branch is a stage for a ruler’s gaze,

Watching the world in a misty haze.

Snow-dusted pine, a distant choir,

Muted colors hum in quiet fire.

Feathers catch the light that barely stays,

A silent sermon of strength in frozen days.

Soar, above the frost-born city of trees,

Glide through the pale blue-gray of the breeze.

Eyes like stars in a winter dawn,

King of the bare, sovereign and strong.

A moment pauses where wind and will converge,

The sky holds its breath, the valley starts to purge

The noise of seasons with a softer tone,

A white-blue hush where the creature roams alone.

But the branch remembers every watchful night,

And vows to guard this crystal, stubborn light.

Soar, above the frost-born city of trees,

Glide through the pale blue-gray of the breeze.

Eyes like stars in a winter dawn,

King of the bare, sovereign and strong.

The day wears on in muted steel and pale,

The eagle drifts, a quiet, noble tale.