Friday Poem: Requiem For An Owl

My poem for this week  is a sad story but, sadly, true. Dozens of creatures must die on the nations roads everyday, but it seems worse somehow to find the corpse of a bird so rarely seen as a Boobook Owl. You might hear one calling from time to time, or glimpse one when driving at night, but to see one in daylight is a rare treat – unless it is dead on the side of the road…IMG_0465 (Large)

Walking home Monday
I found an owl
Infinite sadness
Dead by the side
Of the road.

Picked it up
By a wingtip
Confirmed -yes – a Boobook
Its face smashed flat
On impact with
A fast-moving vehicle
Emphatically dead.

Soft silent feathers spread
Like angel’s wings
Beside the tarmac.

I moved the body out of reach
Of wheels.

Soft silent spotted feathers
Spread like angel’s wings
On sticks and grass.

(So,too, we all will pass…)wreath (Large)

Somewhere in my files, I have a photo or two of a (blurred ) young owl fleeing from my camera, but I have been unable to find it. I have contented myself with a view of the road in question, a wreath I made from old rusty wire found in our paddock (for remembrance), and an owl pendant my youngest son gave me. DSCF8682 (Large)