Encounter

The hang-gliders made their own trail

from the mountain road

to the cliff above our house.

It was magical watching the rainbow sails

wafting forever down to a safe field.

One said our updrafts weren't the best

but our view was spectacular.

He said that, as he clutched the glider's bar,

a bald eagle hovered,

perplexed but unruffled,

beak pointed inches

from his rapt, trapped face,

gold eyes drilling,

until it broke communion's moment,

veering off again,

into raptor's rapturous

real time.

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I have sat in the east on a dragon’s-spine cliff

looking down at the backs of bald eagles flying.

In the west I watched from high palisades

two condors sky-dance below me,

so huge they made my life expand!

© Tamara Rasmussen 2018