The eagle, demon-torn, crashed to earth.
Its head buried into soil,
beak rasped through stone,
eyes and brain rooted to a tree-form.
Above ground, wood-bones branched
feather-leaved. Blood became berries
seeded with life. So, to Greeks,
the rowan was born.
Vikings went the other way: took wood
and shaped a spine, legs, arms, head,
filled out flesh with berries,
adorned the skull with leaves.
There she was, the girl. Here I am,
the woman, finally understanding why
I need to be rooted, yet always felt
I fell from the sky.