Of Eagles and Chickens (a poem)

We Americans are a mix of birds,


Some soarers, others grounders;

And from their strong, enduring words,

More Eagles were among our Founders.

But different birds this domain share,

Some soaring, some just clucking;

While Eagles soar, patrol the air;

Penned Chickens wait for plucking.


Eagles have sharp, raptor eyes,

Not so in birds fear stricken;

An Eagle fights to own his skies,

Not so the hen-housed Chicken.

Feckless fowl, they placidly peck,

Flocking to their foolish fate,

Flashing blade on feathered neck,

Must they always learn too late?


That's why we use the very word

To taunt those who won't fight;

A Chicken is some fear-filled bird,

Whose fear provokes his plight.

Frightened fowl will surrender all,

Hoping for a peaceful ending,

Unmindful that their heads may fall,

Blind to bright blades descending.


But Eagles being bolder birds,

Seek our enemies in their lair,

Screaming Eagles, forgoing words,

Strike with deadly talons there.

Proud raptors who together fight

Know something Chickens never will,

Love of country and birthright,

A rara avis grounder skill.


The anti-war capons of Answer

And hysterical hens of Code Pink,

Let bird flu turn into fowl cancer,

And their pen is beginning to stink.

As they flock to the Mall in September

To disgrace and dishonor their nation

It would behoove them to remember

Watchful Eagles are on station.


Russ Vaughn
Vietnam 65-66
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