A life that soars out on the open air
Sees all and hears quite a bit up so high,
But must live its days with worry and care,
To Heaven and back to earth it must fly.
With featheréd long wings preened to the tip,
It glides amazingly over land and
Sea to perch on a branch, maybe a ship,
To eye what's left of its freedom so grand.
A deadly and swift hunter of the sky,
The prey would dare not even try to hide,
For it be a more painful way to die;
The laws of nature all prey must abide.
There be not a pack, a school, nor a herd,
A solitary hunter is the bird.