an eagle - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
From nowhere comes an eagle, not the majestic beast of film and poetry, but one who's known much pain. He flies strong against the headwind as he must have done in his youth, yet his feathers tell a different story. Times have been tough for this mighty creature of sky and light. His body remains healthy enough to prosper should he find good nourishment and rest. I pray he does; I pray he has many days ahead to soar on lofty breezes.
The eagle dominates the sky as is his birthright, spreading wings as broad as they are black. His head is white in the sunlight, as bright as the clouds he glides between. Yet in his talons he carries a twisted piece of junk, rusted enough to give it an earthy hue from far below. He cannot nest with such a thing but to him it must look as good as any twig, bent and brownish-red.
The eagle has seen better days, David sees it in her eyes. She still has the spark of a proud creature of the sky, but she is diminished in ways that bites his soul just to look at her. Every day he comes to feed her fresh meat and hope she fights what ails her; every day he comes hoping to see that she has chosen to fly instead of perish.
In the twilight all Paul sees of the eagle is the golden beak and eye, his feathers masked by the darkness. His head catches the moonlight every once in a while as he scans the woodland, head moving fast in small jerky motions.
The eagle on the roof looked into the distance like it was considering something philosophical, as if it wasn't just a bird. In the early fall sunshine its feathers were as glossy as fresh paint and its head as white as a paper cut out. Delilah looked at the beak, it was as yellow as the buttercups that sprung over the mountain grass at her feet.
High above was an eagle; the sultry air was being beaten by colossal black feathers, darker even than the oil that they were drilling from the ground. Against the noise of the rigs and machinery it appeared silent. In that moment Jamie wished he was a painter rather than an engineer. He imagined himself painting the white plumed head and midnight feathers, his mind clear and his heart rate somewhere below the constant pounding that came with the job. He could even make out the yellow beak - but this job paid money and artists starve, so really, was there ever a choice?
The sky was almost too dark to see the broad spread wings, darker even than the encroaching night, but the snowy white hood of the eagle was still visible. It had alighted on a nearby tree and Sasha held her breath, trying not to scare the mighty bird away.
When Caleb looked up to the almost cloudless sky he gave a shrill cry of pure excitement that brought everyone to a stand-still. Soaring above was an eagle, black wings spread wide and its white hood brilliant against the blue. Caleb wished with all his might he could join it, see the world from above. How awesome it would be to see the hills and forests spread out like the most beautiful blanket. He held out his arms wide, wondering it those inky wings were longer than his arms. When the others began to move on he just stayed, head craned, still like a department store mannequin - just watching. In that moment he almost felt like he could channel the spirit of that mighty bird.