The Eye of an Eagle

How crisp is your eye, o eagle!
The eye that grabs, the eye that
severs; above the tops of trees
you ride on stately wings,
and your eye, like a saber,
slices through the canopy’s
lush color and form;
corners a fawn, and pounces
on its shape (shape, the object
which betrays us, which
explains the inexplicable).
It was not the talons that struck
the fawn, but the eye, that
carved it clean as a butcher.

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