White-Bellied Sea Eagle

White-Bellied Sea Eagle. By Pete Hay

I know the river. 

I know the tree carved fish-hearted river as I know my arcing rope barked heights. 

If I choose I can drop like swift brain, rake the river, strike it, tear and know you that it will be so.

But I will so choose. 

I know air and plains of water. 

I am irresistible.

The river of my eye true running. 

I fill the air and my white shadow holds the wind. 

Just this is not known why the sea froth of my breast excites such low pointed babble. 

It is white. 

Yes, noon sun white, the river colour of death.

This also is not known.

All flee from my white shadow.

So why does a creature, this man thing, trapped in its one plane, why does it conjure such willing alarm? 

Only this hint. That it holds a rampant power abade. 

Holds even me at its capricious whim.

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