The Birds in the Road

I see the birds in the road up ahead,
their heads bent down to peck at something
nearly ground flat into the pavement.
I pay them little attention, leaning forward
instead to rifle through my bag for a pen
to capture an inspiring thought before
it flies away from me and out of sight.
I must hear something, a quiet curse
or the birds themselves, because I look
up to find a large, dark eagle spanning
my side of the windshield, struggling
to miss the front of our barreling car.
I duck on instinct, as if this station wagon
isn't so much larger than my own frame,
and the driver taps the brakes just enough
for the eagle to maneuver to the side
as we fly passed it on the highway.