Gold eyes, sharp and knowing,
Nestled in the tundra’s frozen quilt,
You vanish into a mirage of snow,
Only to burst forth—
Wings outstretched, broad as winter’s horizon,
Clawed feet sheathed in down,
A shadow ascends,
Cutting the sky with silent power.

The cold gnaws at the world,
But it cannot pierce you.
Your stare—a sun above this endless white—
Burns through the veil of ice.

Every shadow, each rustling beneath the snow
Finds no refuge from your gaze.
Your head turns with patient ease,
An unseen compass,
Surveying the frozen labyrinth.

You are winter’s sovereign—
Composed, unyielding,
A riddle of wisdom carved in feathers.

Your dominion, the barren and desolate,
Where life braves the threshold.
From wind-hewn grasslands to the Arctic expanse,
You endure.

With talons as sharp as frost,
You dive and conquer—
A creature born of the tundra’s stark song.

Each beat of your wings speaks resilience,
A testament to those
Who thrive where others falter.

In your stillness,
The land holds its breath.
In your flight,
The sky bends to your will.

You are the watcher of winter’s edge,
A sentinel etched in snow.