When you hear the night-owl,
he's saying: essence, hunger,

instinct. What makes him call
from the black forest, his voice

low and lovely like a siren?
He obeys the duty of his body,

his wide, strong wings, his large
moon-like eyes. And when he swoops

tracking the shivering rabbit,
tearing its flesh with his beak

he carries his noble body
back to the mystery of trees.

1 comment:

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

I like owls! This seems to say it all.