screech owl_MG_0287from Nature Friend.jpg

Screech Owl

Screech Owl - by Tom Spencer

  • Crumpled on a dirty door mat,
  • left by the cats -
  • the owl is just a loose bag
  • of feathers now - empty talons curled,
  • and one fierce eye turned
  • over its shoulder.
  • "What soft flesh enticed you to the ground?"
  • Lifting the mat, I remember
  • waking at night to the trilling call – a silvery vein
  • wrapped in the dark energy of hunger.
  • “All things die and too soon...” I say aloud,
  • my own eye sinking into that inky well. The
  • vacant perch leaning over my shoulder.
  • "What is to become of my flesh, my soul?"
  • "It's the waking that counts," I think, "and the meeting."
  • For a moment I wake again - grateful for the living.