"Sweet the coming on / Of grateful evening mild; then silent night / With this her solemn bird and this fair moon, / And these gems of heaven, her starry train."
There is something mystifying about these birds. They emerge from the darkness-a crashing, brimming with wind-much like a sail saturated with gust. They meet in the sky abruptly, talons entangled, screaming. Its as if I do not even exist. As I lay in the sun, a large shadow briefly covers my entire body. I hear a crushing in the sky. In a hurry I open my eyes and protect them from the blaring sun. As I strain my eyes to see, fifteen feet above my head two Eagles are clasped together, bending, turning, spinning in the air. I release my shutter, they release, and disappear- and I am left with nothing but a picture of solid blue sky-As if they never existed.
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