The eagle to shake the earth wobbles,
plana sharply,
weeping wound,
has lost feathers.
The eagle can not swim in the mud but
fight head-on against the shocks of time.
The eagle is not content to fly at low altitude
and if it does so without fear of falls.
The eagle in the heart wood of the cross.
Even Jesus is not just for Easter in this rubble.
Dumbledore,
absent in an empty tomb.
The eagle will rise forever.
