SONG OF THE WILLOW WARBLER
(Sonnet) Copyright Sara L. Russell, 22nd June 2003

I rode the wings of night on rising air
That carried me from Africa's wild shore;
To fields of meadowsweet and maidenhair
To sing of heaven's dome and ocean's floor.
Spring greets my song with hawthorn flower and briar
Rewards my voice with nectar-tinted sun;
The thrum of earth's renewal is my lyre
As thaws begin and waters speed to run.
I sing for memories of sultry days
For zebras racing over arid planes.
I sing of England's tepid Summer haze;
Slow-strolling shire horses with plaited manes.
From heaven's heights I sing, for life's divine,
The purest voice, the lightest heart is mine.

SONG OF THE EAGLE
Copyright Sara L. Russell, 5th June 2003

Fly hence, rivals,
this land belongs to me,
these jagged, ragged cliffs
flanking the sea;
windward over rolling waves I fly
where the black clouds cataract the sky.

Fly hence, rivals,
I patrol these skies.
I chase the reeling moths
and dragonflies;
my shadow marks the heathers as I pass
my dread updraft makes ripples through the grass.

Fly hence, rivals,
I hold dominion here.
The wild geese spiral up
as I appear;
they scatter in the air before my eyes
for I am the master of the skies.