Eagle Says Thanks

Above most Wele, unmade maker My architect and, my own repairer Hauler of my spare parts, my contraption of life Quota of my breath, controller of my edges No reason to bolt the beak, no reason to gather my feathers I chirp all the day in melodies, flapping my wings like men dance Leave alone the crow and vulture, you make me soar high Quota of my breath, controller of my edges Now am above sixty, you’ve re-pared repaired and prepared me Sustained me at the peaked ice, survived me of the thicket storms Strengths and efforts you renewed, and sustained my waiting Quota of my breath, controller of my edges Thank you lord for prowess, the flights and conceals Thank you lord for sharp, resolutions of my eyes Am not the crow that caws, in squeaky chirps I thank Quota of my breath, controller of my edges