The Homestead, Hot Springs, Virginia
I named him Percy, a pet
name assigned to a creature I would
probably never see again.
But he was cute
and I did not fear too much
the bead eyes staring, the rooster-claw
beak, the inches-long talons that wrapped
the trainer’s gloved index finger
like piercing blades.
We stood in the field six
feet apart, extended our arms
as instructed and, with a lift of the trainer’s arm,
Percy flew off
high, higher into the cool spring air
then plunged toward us to pass
right under our arms precise and elegant
as fire and ice. Stunned,
we stared at his lazy loops as the trainer
let him have that joy, that bliss
his from birth.
© by Sherry Hughes Beasley.
Used with the author’s permission.