He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
close to the sun in lonely lands,
ring'd with the azure world he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
and like a thunderbolt he falls.
I was shooting blind
into the bright sun so
the pictures are not as
good as I would like.
They were gliding,
hunting and moving fast.
Two males and
Bald Eagle right
over my home.
I have seen them
before, but never
three together at