Snowy owl flys past Montreal traffic cam. (Quebec Transport Minister Robert Poëti)
Think of yourself as an owl
snowy white and cotton-soft,
your wingspan as wide as any god’s arms.
You soar above the frozen boughs
last night storm’s gift to this part of town.
Your only concern is finding a warm fat mole,
a freshly abandoned eagle nest, or choosing
which of your two females to mate.
A flash in the sky caught your eye
but who has time to stop when a black duck swims
above the icy water of the lake across?
Your soft feathers hold the winter breeze at bay,
your belly sings for that sweet meat dripping
with the taste of the lake.
Who else but you would dare to grasp a creature slipping to live?
Who else but you would dig into the living flesh with a razor beak?
Who else but you would look into the eye of the silent watchers–
the lens’ capture of your flight, your fight?
There are human things only humans do,
while the owls do the things owls do,
our wings folding and stretching, stretching and folding.
January 10th 2016.
First Post of the year.