The Morning Eagle and the Sunset

Coloring the blue sky with a watercolor brush,

The perfect sun does set.

Soaring and circling in dizzying heights,

The morning eagle disappears out of sight.

And I wonder,

Does the sun that sets go somewhere I know?

Does the eagle find his way back home?

Alone I notice,

Does anyone else dare see?

Those far off distance mysteries know more than you and me.

I step back,

I gaze at all who lack.

I detect,

The sun and eagle worry little.

What wisdom do they hold?

I vow to pay closer notice.

I would be full of pride if I chose to overlook,

The given freedom of the morning eagle,

Is no comparison to a sunset that is created regal?

Bound to this life we are thrown,

Their guidance holds all that is known.