A bald eagle feeding off a duck on the frozen river makes me stop my bike to lean against the guard rail, watching her feed. How gracefully the most powerful bird on the river eats.

I want to go out onto the ice and speak with her. She looks so huge, as if when I walk out and get near her, she will be the size of a lion, and shelter me in her wings.

She dances around her food.

The cars passing give the sense that I’m a spectacle, and the eagle continually looks up, feeling the same. The cars snatch away some of the godliness, reminding me I’m halfway in hell.

I meet my friend on the road and she is the same as the eagle and I. She says, I feel like I’m being visited by Jesus. She takes me up to her house on the hill and we get out the binoculars and telescope. We touch the eagle’s brown feathers with our eyes. We watch the way her beak is larger than my skull, and holds all my thoughts.

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