Eagle or Thunderbird?

 

The nest was at the top of the mountain,

Himalayan high,

and built from the

bones of my enemies.

 

I soared above it,

spying my young

who needed feeding.

 

I thought,

for such a long time that,

I was an eagle

soaring over

the bones of my enemies,

until I read

American Gods –

about Thunderbirds.

 

There was no lightening

above these mountains,

in my dream –

just flashes of a white feathered head

and tail;

soaring above those mountains,

Himalayan high

and built from the bones of my enemies.

(c) R. L. Elke 2016