A POEM BY HAL MEILI
They tackled the cliff, dropping without drift
through thunderheads below.
As if by recoil, through clouded turmoil, they
trapped its upward flow.
Shot aloft by an erupting trough, they mastered
The sky,
Scanning terrain o'er red domain with telescopic eye.
Spotting prey through stratus gray, bolting to
their quarry.
With helmet in hand and a marching band, they
ruled the territory.
When their surf on their red turf, it triggers
inspiration.
Proud ‘n free, ranging sea to sea, the symbol
dof our nation.
High overhead, with wings wide-spread, soars
“A quarterback's dream.”
It swells his heart, that prideful part, whenever
The eagle screams.
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