What work
am I called here for?

Me,
in fish form, scales silver
against an evening sun
swimming circles around my coldwater lake

calling the Eagle.

What work do I have
to do? Could it be
enough to be here,

perched on this granite rock on this
ancient mountaintop, these tips
that are older than cognitive thought
and look
at the fish
glinting silver and gold
in an amber sun, swimming
circle after circle, gradually
tightening, radius shrinking, speed
quickening, swishing greatly, becoming
more and more, gaining momentum–
and calling the Eagle.


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