Soaring on themal air

Soaring on a Thermal Air
He stood and looked at all he could survey,
He was the king and not just today,
He sat upon a rock so high,
And looked into the sky.
His eyes were scanning all the rocks,
Above, below and even lower than an could see,
He wanted to see if there was dinner below,
Something easy to pick and mix something that would give him not a trick.
He spied a salmon in the stream; it was swimming like a dream,
He kept his eyes on the ripples below; it would be so easy to swoop below,
Then he saw the big brown bear,
Eyeing up the water there,
He eyed the ripple and the bear; he was not going to go there.
Up in the sky he took off in flight,
Using his wings with so much might,
He looked around and saw below, nothing that would make him go.
So he soared on thermal air,
Wings not flapping did not dare to flap because of what was down below,
His dinner if he got there before it would go.
Now he opened eyes so wide,
Concentrated on a hare that was loping in the sand,
The eagle knew something that the hare would never understand,
The hare was dinner; it was a foregone thing,
All he had to do was flying and the hare would almost certainly die,
For he would out fly the hare any single day,
It did not matter which way it went, the eagle would land with hare in talons,
One foul swoops and his neck was gone, the eagle did not want dinner anymore
It was here within his beak, fly home now wings flapping in the wind,
All his family would eat well tonight,
Until the next time he had to take flight, but that was not going to be tonight.
©Fred West 2013