ArtsAutosBooksBusinessEducationEntertainmentFamilyFashionFoodGamesGenderHealthHolidaysHomeHubPagesPersonal FinancePetsPoliticsReligionSportsTechnologyTravel
  • »
  • Books, Literature, and Writing

Wings (a poem)

Updated on December 9, 2011

Wings

The evening sun dies slowly

Trudging

Men and women wend their way from work to home

Earbuds in, ignoring

All around them, locked in their own worlds

The roar of traffic blocked away

Locked away

Until one pair of eyes looks up

And up

High above the humdrum, black wings

Catch the air, swift flying

White head catching the light

Enough for pause

Brain argues with eyes

The bird remains real

An eagle in the city

The woman stops, enjoys

Connection

Then gone, and she looks down

To realize

She remains surrounded

Suits trapped in music

Not one of them looked up

Not one saw


Notes

This incident really happened at a crowded bus stop above a Metro station in the Maryland suburbs of D.C.

I have always said people don't look up. Often they don't pay any attention at all to anything not directly relevant to them.

Comments

    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    • profile image

      Charles Hilton 5 years ago

      Beautiful poem!

      There is a Bald Eagle habitat behind a shopping mall in my neck of the Maryland woods---suburban Baltimore. And because of the community where I live---woods and marsh and waterfront---there are eagles and ospreys and other hawks and even vultures, and over the years I've learned to keep one eye forward and the other eye to the sky.

    • Senoritaa profile image

      Senoritaa 5 years ago

      Very true, beautifully written.

    • ahorseback profile image

      ahorseback 5 years ago

      I love this and I constantly see something like this where most people seem oblivious! Makes you wonder doesn't it !.....:-} Awesome

    • profile image

      cavallo 5 years ago

      Very true.