Driving north down 162
I see a bald eagle
soaring on an updraft
then, seemingly, from nowhere
a crow,
much smaller,
attacks the eagle
again and again
And I wonder
if it is the majestic eagle,
victim of the vicious attacks
from this small, dark smudge,
yet flies on, undeterred
is to be admired
for carrying on,
undeterred
Or if the brave crow
protecting family and home
from a scavenging hulk,
a David fighting off Goliath,
is the hero of this story.
Or if they are both, simply,
doing their best
to survive.
No heroes, no villains
except in my eyes
In Other Words 
I love your human perspective on nature. We both have crows today! For some reason my “likes” aren’t sticking, but know that I love this poem.
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Thanks! I like your crow, and poem, as well.
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In nature, I would think they are both just doing their best to survive. As metaphor it could be something totally different, altogether. Sometimes it’s hard to see the hero for the villain.
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We can spin stuff so many ways. I tend to anthropomorphize, so it’s a good reminder for me.
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