I am flecked with the juice of pomegranates,
Bare-footed and listening to the poetry of ages
Read by men I will never meet.
This day is a clear one,
To my mind and my eyes.
I see so much today and I am happy.
I am grateful for the gift of rare days.
Peace is so flitting in these chaos times,
But I pad the nest anyway.
Strings and cloth scraps here.
This side needs extra down.
I cover the sharp sticks of life.
There are still years before I will launch them
As a mother eagle with her young.
They will soar higher than I, I tell my heart.
Today, it has been time and sight.
An eagle's sharp vision, by heaven, has been the gift
And my arms will, cradling, enfold it.