I wrote the following poem for this picture:
The Eagle’s Watch
In a quiet river valley
Lies a green and peaceful place,
Where warriors come to rest,
Having honorably met their fates.
No more do they stand the watch,
Their worthy service done,
They’ve passed their duties on
To other Fathers’ sons.
Yet flying high above them,
On silent wings spread wide,
Soars freedom’s embodiment
And a country’s sign of pride.
The mighty Eagle watches o’er all,
And guards their well-earned rests.
For he like they, knows the feel,
Of Freedom in his chest.
And though he does his best to guard
The fallen warriors’ sleep,
Still at times he grows so weary,
And must rest his wings a-beat.
So slowly he glides his way,
To where the fallen rest.
And there he bides his time a bit,
Among the honored Vets.
And though he knows no words,
Of the valiant warriors’ speech.
Still they communicate,
In a way that words can’t reach.
Having communed with those who lie,
Among the rows of stone.
The Eagle takes to flight again,
And resumes his post alone.
In endless soaring circles,
He surely makes his rounds.
Guarding the fallen heroes,
Who make this hollowed ground.
Copyright © 2011 by Jack Cook
That’s beautiful!
Can I spread this over the internet? Leaving your copyright declaration & name, of course.
Excellent!
I used to drive by that cemetery regularly, and it was not unusual to see eagles hanging around. It’s next to the Mississippi and Minnesota Rivers.
I have BIL buried there.
+10.
Very nice.
Thank you. It is so beautifully done.
Beautiful poem!
I wrote the following poem for this picture:
The Eagle’s Watch
In a quiet river valley
Lies a green and peaceful place,
Where warriors come to rest,
Having honorably met their fates.
No more do they stand the watch,
Their worthy service done,
They’ve passed their duties on
To other Fathers’ sons.
Yet flying high above them,
On silent wings spread wide,
Soars freedom’s embodiment
And a country’s sign of pride.
The mighty Eagle watches o’er all,
And guards their well-earned rests.
For he like they, knows the feel,
Of Freedom in his chest.
And though he does his best to guard
The fallen warriors’ sleep,
Still at times he grows so weary,
And must rest his wings a-beat.
So slowly he glides his way,
To where the fallen rest.
And there he bides his time a bit,
Among the honored Vets.
And though he knows no words,
Of the valiant warriors’ speech.
Still they communicate,
In a way that words can’t reach.
Having communed with those who lie,
Among the rows of stone.
The Eagle takes to flight again,
And resumes his post alone.
In endless soaring circles,
He surely makes his rounds.
Guarding the fallen heroes,
Who make this hallowed ground.
Copyright © 2011 by Jack Cook