One Eagle

When you were young, they were rare,
Endangered, precious, a sight
To boast, for years, of seeing.

Symbols, the national bird,
Bird as the nation itself,
Totemized talons, fierce stare.

With help, they clawed their way back.
Still exciting to see one,
But not a near miracle.

The symbolism, meanwhile,
Ubiquitous, grew tiresome,
The cartoonish bald eagle

Beloved of patriots,
Political satirists,
And merchandisers of kitsch.

The world does not see itself
Reflected in us. We see
Ourselves itself reflecting.

At dawn, one fished in this lake,
Large bird, hungry, as life is,
No clue it had just come back

From the brink, just doing what
Bald eagles evolved to do,
Unaware of flags or merch.