Two Poems
by Diane
Webster
With my binoculars focused,
the eagle steps off his branch
and glides toward me.
Discomfort elbows my heart
like a prairie dog must feel
a moment before…
The eagle leads with its talons
as it grabs at the river’s current
dripping, rippling as it circles away
no heavier than before.
But behind I see another
land its fish flapping
on a branch between talons tight;
crows swoop close
for leftover tidbits
Gravity
Weighted by tins of cat food
the white plastic bag stands upright,
forgotten on the kitchen table
until it crinkles stress silence
with curious wonderings
and searching about the house
for noise
like a cricket scrabbling
through a narrow hole in a door jamb
until the cat slinks into the room
and stares at the bag
succumbing to gravity.
