Owl Again

There have been a few owls in my dreams lately. Not sure why.


The windows are clear glass and wide, so

When I look out to the porch, I can see

So close, and so defined, a screech owl,

Gentle brown with very wide, yellow eyes,

As it shifts to balance on a telephone wire.

I call my fiancee over to see, tell her to hurry,

Worried she’ll miss it, but she looks up

In time to marvel, before it dives after

A passing monarch (or perhaps painted lady)

And snatches it from the sky. It lands again

On the wire, somewhat clumsily, so close to us

That if not for the glass, we could stroke

Each feather.



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