A wounded eagle perched on high,
The mighty fallen from the sky.
Beneath the jackals congregate
For they foresee the eagle’s fate.
But jackals are a craven crowd
Whilst eagles are a tribe that’s proud.
While jackals scheme and lie and gloat
They’ll soon be at each other’s throat.
The eagle’s wounds will slowly heal,
His wrath the jackals then will feel
As jackals cower in their bands
And eagles fly from other lands.
Copyright © Dennis N. O’Brien, 2012