Breakfast in Decorah

The shiny trout was still alive,

flapping under her fat yellow talons,

as three tiny fluffs of mottled feather

chirped in hungry anticipation.

You can look in, too, on the Eagle’s nest high in a cottonwood tree in northern Iowa where a pair of Bald Eagles are raising a nest of three eaglets: Decorah Eagles


About wrensong

I am a poet who collects stones. I am a wanderer of creek beds and forests, canyons and high desert who, coming home, sometimes finds words to tell the story. I am a companion with others in the search for Deep, Wild Soul. I shape containers in time and space for others to come together to write, to tell their stories, to hold each other in the telling. I am a grandmother and the companion of a cat named Alaya. I often travel out into open country with a man who calls himself Dunewalker who has hung his hammock in my heart.
This entry was posted in A River of Stones, aros, eagles, Nature, Small Stones, The River and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Breakfast in Decorah

  1. Libby says:

    Very descriptive. I feel sorry for the trout but that’s life.

  2. tmhHoover says:

    I have been watching them all morning! What a great link.! I am also keeping an eye on some red tailed hawks in Cornell NY… the eggs are supposed to hatch this weekend .

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