The Last Poem by Oleg Vorobyov

Only a hidden camera tapped on
The high-flown rocky tuft can have a peep
Of an endangered eagle of the sturdy beak,
Jet-black eyes, steel claws and grimy wings,
Perched on a sheer shamrock shelf.

Somewhere between the sky and the earth
The eagle is the last of his kin's line,
But of this saddest fact he knows not!
Why trouble over what has come and gone?
Kings of birds take pride in solitude.

This rugged, most familiar expanse
Can feed the lustre of the eager eye;
This wind will carry ever on and on;
This score of days will run without fail!
He feels a total sovereign to last
Forever or as time would him allot.

Yea, for conservation chaps he is the last
Of the species long believed to have gone extinct.
True, their cam has spotted him by dint
Of a haphazard observational luck.
They gonna trap him, settle in a cage,
Find him a match. If none, by an artifice
To resurrect the line with him as a stud. -
It's well-intended plan, egad!

However, while the hidden eye is up,
The unmindful eagle's happinesS of free,
Untampered with, though stark lonely life,
Is of an uppermost, paramount worth,
A boon of Mother Nature to vain man! !