See the graceful sweep of the Eagles wings
As he floats on a cushion of air
On a spiralling staircase he slowly descends
And the wind seems to say a prayer

He looks all around, taking everything in
For he is not in a hurry
He'll catch his prey at the end of the day
No matter how fast they scurry

At the moment he's content just to soar
He knows he's the king of the sky
But even kings have young ones to feed
In the distance he hears them cry

At last he swoops, he seldom fails
For the young ones depend on him
If he did not bring some morsels to eat
Their future would be quite grim

He quickly returns to his eyrie
To his lofty perch in the sky
All is at peace with the world again
And the wind seems to whisper a sigh.