THE OWL

THE OWL

It hangs on the thermals of the night
Scanning, rescanning by sound of sight
Looking down on the prey where it will feed
For the tell-tale scurrying it can read
Silently gliding through darkness and gloom
For vermin and rodents an angel of doom
Death on the wing is the quiet fugue
Stowed away talons are waiting to grasp
The life ebbs away in reactionary gasp
As it claims each new movement stilled by the night
The Tawny owl harbinger scowls without sight
Devoured and constricted swallowed up whole
The raptor rides patiently through the blackness of coal
A menacing shadow on the floor of a barn
As it swoops without sound and gives no alarm

JP