As eagle swoops at break of day,
Tallons cling to wriggling prey.
Having hunted and found his quest
He soon returns to guard his nest.
Shimmering cliffs that brightly shine
From rust colored monolith's high,
Creating golden treasures
Within the sunset sky.
The smell of autumn's in the air;
Chill of night falls fast.
The eagle soars through clouded sky,
His kingdom won through triumphs past.
Connie Marcum Wong
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/american-spirit/
