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The Whispering Of Her Feathers 

An ageing language

A young girl soon discovered a powerful secret

As she realised she was born an animal master,

Born in to the royal hierarchy of her close family

A true whisperer of love, happiness and disaster.


Her mode of transport is a personal preference

In awe of her choices she makes on a given day,

Visiting, wild adventuring and even sightseeing

Whether for a day, a month or permanent stay.


She rides in comfort on the back of her camel

She journey’s far and wide, viewing the land,

The rivers, the forests, surveying as she goes

Sometimes from necessity, others unplanned.


When she chooses to visit her precious family

The ride is quicker on the back of her wild tiger,

Racing from start to finish, watching on fiercely

She trusts fully the beast as she’s only the rider.


On the days she wishes for adventure and play

She calls forth her eagle, raised since her birth,

Danger and glory awaits her, as the chains held

In her bird of prey’s claws, swinging for its worth.


She’s seated as the chains sway back and forth

Flying over the natural landscape, into the skies,

Gorgeous valleys, winding rivers, mountain sides

Above her royal land, inspected as the eagle flies.


Powerful eagle wings hover, swiftly cutting the air

Like the beating of the drum, in harmonic rhythm,

Whispering of her feathers, an ageing language

Call of nature, furthering her ancient biorhythms. 


Originally posted on Medium 

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