These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

Eagle's Nest

The eagle's nest above the fray
hath treasured hope for kith and kin.
To the heights, the eagle mounts the day,
and safely keeps its young to win.

The tropic gale of hurricane force
it boasts itself of feathered demise
to shred the nest on its furious course.
No reason but its surly prize.

Will rocky crags prevent the gale?
Will eagle's nest and young ones live?
Will gallant bird in final fail
be nearer extinction than to thrive?

The days of past in victor's pride
the eagle weathered torrent's blast,
but now the violent water's belied
the menace, that could breach its mast.

"Be strong, O Eagle, beak now chipped
of rock, that flew by gale's worst pitch.
We have great hope thy case be flipped
by the sun, that makes the storm not so rich."

The eagle fights though pummelled sore
by arrogant winds, that seek its death.
Secures his young ones long before
he lights and draws his final breath.

The eagle's strength is the greatest match
for the maelstrom's breath and its evil mind.
Defeat may try in vain to attach
to the eagle eyes to make it blind.
At the end of the day, it will dispatch
its living presence, none can bind.

by Jay O'Toole
on March 8th, 2021