Sam Hamill: When Eagles Fly

I don’t know how we do it,

how we struggle to find happiness

in this brutal world.

I sat a long time watching

a few sailboats meander

around Fidalgo Bay.

For an old man alone,

that’s a pretty good day

if he can manage to avoid

the sharp knives of nostalgia

and remorse.

High above the boats,

two eagles turned in the sky

and slowly turned again.

And I remembered again

her breathy whisper—

Write me a poem—

as she kissed me goodbye.

Copyright 2018 The Estate of Sam Hamill. From After Morning Rain published by Tiger Bark Press. Included in Vox Populi by permission of the publisher.