Riding Eagle !
The Night is dead, first shiny glow which tenderly possess the Stones, the Earth, a Glamour Show of dancing Lights, I guess.
The Wideness of this Scenery amidst enormous Rocks Is boundless big and endlessly, With Guardians in Blocks.
Scant Vegetation is immersed in red-orange and gold, The Colours floating and dispersed like Diamonds to behold.
But in that Countryside along Is mixed a magic tune, The Sound varies from soft to strong, This Mystery solved soon.
An Eagle riding on his Bike through rusty, sun-drenched Air, The humming wheels are on a hike to reach the sky, a dare.
The Being keeps the wheels in rein, Sheer Freedom in his eyes, Tough Muscles press them back to lane Steel wings, which nearly flies.
Untamed and keen, the Hair wind-blown Controls breath-taking speed, He drives a race, …or maybe flown? Horizon reached, indeed.
A proud creature wrapped in Light, but no more sound was heard, Just my desire was in sight, No Feather and no Bird.
The Eagle was a manly Being, Fulfilled my burning wish, Cause … I’m allowed to watch this scene, The Man, … named William Smith ! ____________________________ June 2010 © Maria Wigo (Wiltrud Maria Gödde) Germany
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