I am the wind’s first whisper at dawn,
Talons pressed to crag and cloud,
Wings unfolding like ancient prayer.

I ride the sun on thermal currents,
Eyes aflame with amber light—
Each shadow a secret, each valley a promise.

I taste the chill of mountain air,
Feel the heartbeat of the earth below,
As rivers wind through canyon lungs.

I watch the field mice tremble in their tunnels,
Snared by my silent shadow,

Life and death in a single stoop.

I am both hunter and hymn,
Solo monarch of open skies,
My cry echoing ancient freedoms.

Nestled on high, I guard my fledglings,
Teach them to trust the wind’s embrace,
To master the sky before knowing fear.

And when dusk drapes its violet cloak,
I fold my wings and close my eyes,
Dreaming of tomorrows on the endless draft.