An eagle glides through the air, straight, no flapping.

Convertibles ride with tops down, at first straight

down the road, then passing on the left as hair flies

uncontrolled.

Moving these bodies—feathers, skin, vehicles.

Feeling the sun, and wind, and temperature just right

makes everything feel right.

Is what I'm writing too on the beak, on the emblem,

on the nose?

Epilogue:

The eagle glides and the car drives and I feel alive and

soon I'll be splashing in the bathtub,

moving my toes, feeling alright with what I've written.