It's nothing new to be reminded that as our lives progress we can look back and see different phases we've gone through. Good and bad phases. Growing and withdrawing phases. At the time we may not realize which type of phase we're in; but, it usually becomes clear (even if years or decades later).
I wrote this poem to represent one such phase in my life; it is dedicated to D.H.
C.A. Van Til
The eaglet wriggled through jagged walls,
wetly slid, bumped, over rodent corpses,
(in varying stages of decay)
weakly flopped on the nest floor,
shivered under intermittent spring sun.
In summer’s shimmering heat,
safe within the nest, he was
nurtured, taught, fed;
until one day, forcibly tumbled
from molt-lined home, he
spread newly-feathered wings