Bald Eagle

Cruising The Canopy A Bald Eagle is caught in the act of cruising the canopy, searching for a lofty spot to land. ~ Anecdote and Bald Eagle capture, Cruising The Canopy © Jerry L. Ferrara

Its Quavering Trill Atop a lofty sylvan crownFully dressed in royal gownA mighty king gives forth a callEchoes it through ‘mountain hall’Those who hear its quavering trillWill not forget the keening thrill ~ Poem and Bald Eagle capture, Its Quavering Trill © Jerry L. Ferrara

The Eye is Tight The eye is tight on a landing spotWhile talons clutch and relinquish notAlight it will, the noble beastComes it to rest where it will feast ~ Poem and Bald Eagle capture, The Eye is Tight © Jerry L. Ferrara

From An Alabaster Throne [Wintertide] In the wondrous quietude of a tender wintertide storm, a magnificent spirit surveys its serene surroundings from an alabaster throne. While making this image, the thing I recall most is not the visual experience. It was the auditory state that was most compelling, or more accurately, lack thereof. The impact of total silence married to the Eagle’s presence was breathtakingly beautiful. MERRY CHRISTMAS! ~ Anecdote and Bald Eagle capture, From An Alabaster Throne [Wintertide] © Jerry L. Ferrara

Perfection’s Never Bought To make a score requires morethan aptitude and skill.A master knows, results will showfrom practice and great will.To dance the sky as eagles plyand snare a fish on wing,demonstrates what practice makes:rehearse is everything.Yet when a feat becomes completeand done without a thought,a master’s guess is not to rest,perfection’s never bought. ~ Poem and Bald Eagle capture, Perfection’s Never Bought © Jerry L. Ferrara, from the book, Wild North Idaho: Season of the Eagle

The Counterpoint To A Faceless Storm Standing in one spot waiting for a photo opportunity is one thing. Standing in a snow storm where at times visibility is questionable is another. When this magnificent creature emanated from the murky scape, its outline was vaguely defined. Was it real or a figment? Then the falling snow lightened. What came out of the storm was a creature on passage. In the fury of the stormLittle seems of solid formJust a sea of shapeless whiteBlowing left and flowing rightWhirls and whips the aerial seaA tumult in realitySlowly, though, a form takes shapeWithin the hoary-mantled drapeA feathered beast of royal formThe counterpoint to a faceless storm ~ Anecdote, poem and Bald Eagle capture, The Counterpoint To A Faceless Storm © Jerry L. Ferrara