Aunty Betsy And The Eagle

Aunty Betsy And The Eagle

Aunty Betsy lay sunbathing in the garden light,

Radio humming softly through a lazy summer afternoon,

She waved at passing neighbours with biscuit in hand,

Never once expecting the sky to change her plans

An eagle cut through the clouds like a bold idea,

Wings wide as judgement day, feathers sharp with purpose,

It swooped down fast with a strange kind of confidence,

And lifted Betsy with all the drama of legend

Her sunhat flew off like a spinning lost memory,

Sandals dangling, tea cup life suddenly left behind,

She shouted at the sky as if it might answer back,

While the garden below turned small and very confused

Up she went above rooftops and startled washing lines,

Fields stretched out like patchwork quilts forgotten by time,

Betsy held on to dignity, and a half eaten biscuit,

Cursing the eagle with a voice that shook the clouds

The eagle kept soaring as if it had a grand plan,

Winds tangled through Betsy’s hair like wild gossip,

She demanded explanations in full dramatic sentences,

While the world below became a quiet painted toy

Clouds drifted past like slow applauding strangers,

Betsy’s fear slowly mixed with the absurdity of it all,

She noticed the view was oddly breathtaking and wide,

Even while arguing she had never agreed to flying

At last the eagle circled above a field of cows

And Betsy, still outraged, shouted put me down Now!

the Eagle found her too heavy and Betsy fell down fast

She landed in a field of ppoop, her journey came to a stop

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