Royalty

Royalty, 
The kind that pulls all of the air 
out of the Room Without Walls. 
The wind is afraid to press on. 
The smallest of birds 
bows with great dignity 
beneath the leaves of the holly tree. 

Royalty, 
The kind that demands respect 
and accepts open-mouthed fear 
as appropriate recompense. 
The kind that misses 
not one single flicker of movement 
in the shadows of the Room Without Walls. 

Royalty, 
The kind that always demands 
the most impressive of locations 
with the vastest of views 
for the smoothest of departures 
across the water and the tangled ravines
to the rest of his domain.

Your Majesty, 
All but the noisy and rude crows 
honor your presence 
with their silence and lowered heads. 
All but the black feathered ones 
accept your ownership 
of all that can be seen 
with just one sharp golden eye.


(He is the largest specimen I have ever seen and paused on the side of my river just long enough for a photo.)