The Lord of the Skies

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                        The eagle soars under the blue canopy,

                        A mile up in the air, searching its within,

                        An impulse moves, touches its craving,

                        Then the eagle swoops, its claws grabbing.

 

                        Bill finishes his work on the combine,

                        Showers and heads into town for a drink,

                        The place is a little full, the scent is of ale,

                        He grabs a corner table waits, for the service.

 

                        He continues to wait, sees Pete and Tom,

                        Wonders if they found a harvester yet,

                        What the heck! He walks over for  his order,

                        Catches Pete's attention and waves a smile.

 

                        Picks up the drinks at the counter, walks over,

                        Taps Pete on the shoulder with an assuage,

                        Inquires about the contract for the harvest,

                        Tom appears uncertain, Pete is considering.

 

                        Marla walks through the doors, with a swing,

                        All eyes turn to look as she approaches Bill,

                        She grabs him on the buttocks and walks away,

                        Tom's now a little interested, tells Bill he'll call.

 

                        Bill walks back to his table, his mind on the wing,

                        The numbers were adding up, it looked good,

                        With Tom's contract, he'll peak the coming year,

                        Never had it so good, it seemed, for a while.

 

                        The next morning he's back at the combine,

                        The eagle flies overhead, tapping for that impulse,

                        Here and there a promise and then, there it was !

                        The phone rings, Bill looks at it, it's Tom.

Reviews

[R J Askew]

This I like. I see what you are about with Bill now. He symbolises the mean average unthinking, unromantic, pragmatic anglo-saxon rational. I know Bill. Part of me is Bill. I wld be able to walk into that bar and had a conversation with Bill. We cld discusss Metallica, Alter Bridge or some such and I cld listen with interest, nodding politely, to his views on his new Massey. Yet another part of me despises Bill, the contract, the numbers, the predictability of the a*s grab, because for one-dimentional-Bill most of life is just one big grab, be it of a*s, profit, advantage, success, status, kudos. Some of us take others are taken. And the takers like to think themselves Eagles. Personally I prefer the natural ballet of swifts and have, written a cockney poetic novella about said, one of the finest gems of modern literature that will ever fly your way, sir. *Bill The Shy, bows most 'umbly*