A nest,
on the lone tree atop the tallest ridge
in the valley of blood red canyons
silhouetted against the cerulean sky
and inundated with pain,
is now empty.

The serpents of the underworld sacked that nest
(in a time of war’s horror, but not in war)
and killed the mother of the small eagle
who was the sister of the great grey eagle.

Wrapped in the warmth of the morning light,
the small eagle was nurtured and grew powerful
under the gentle teachings of the wise grey eagle
who kept, even unto the death,
the secrets of his powerful and terrible retribution.

Such is the spirit that has become SmallEagle
Such is the wisdom of the great GreyEagle
Such is the warmth of love of the MorningLight
Such is the enduring friendship of SkyEyes

Such is my honour to record…