A poem by Beverly Stock.
© Alexey Petrakov | Dreamstime.com
In from the east where the rain clouds float,
The west wind blows a strong howling note,
On The River Road, for now, I’m in the sun,
Storm clouds pass quickly and try to outrun,
Across the river’s edge, down past the banks,
Winds blow boats each moored by their ranks
Wind whips colored flags and draws a peak,
Across river waves by shores ever bleak.
An American Bald Eagle mutely soars
Above and along the Big River shores,
Then a quick shower, and so we all dash,
The eagle shelters as rain pellets splash,
Over bridges, it falls, into the plain,
With the drama of a Midwestern rain.
The banks of the Mississippi River offer some of the best spots for experiencing the American Bald Eagle migration. Great River Road