Mechanized eagle

The Great Bird tilts gently from side to side,
A Mechanized Eagle rising in the sky.
The higher we go, the slower feels our stride,
But gravity our ascension cannot deny.

Gracefully we soar above mountains majestic
Not operose as did those who journeyed first.
Just cruise with me on wings simplistic,
For they are mere wrinkles of time which make the earth.

The higher we climb the tugging planet disappears.
Clouds rush forth like the evening tide.
Dressed in white covers, earth’s canvass smears,
As the great bird claws skyward on its heavenly ride.

No mountains now to see, the world a cottony terrain.
Dazzling figurations transform the clay, becoming in a way
A land mystic, showered with sunshine, never rain.
An ethereal creation bathed in beams of beauty in full array.

A vast, Crystal Ocean now lies below,
With furrows and rivers of a ghostly pale.
Their pattern, designs and symmetry bestow,
Upon the traveler’s heart a magnificent tale.

It’s a tale of ascending and descending in a chariot of steel.
Riding the airwaves with imaginary sails.
Lower then higher slower then faster over river and rill.
Liquid fire sparks the sky, as avicus metallicus never fails.
—A bedtime story