by William Bean

High above the wind the condor
floats with the sun, his shadow skims
along these serpentine mountain
peaks with the grace of misty clouds.

High in his solitude he soars
with only the sun to keep
his secrets, the condor passes
over time outstretched in stones.

High stands his throne in mountain crags,
who can see his majestic flight
with ordinary eyes, one must
look up towards the edge of heaven.

06/01/2003