Wise owl waits,

watches

tree-scape no longer cedar,

pine, or fir.

Hollow space where once

deer cooled

in gentle shade,

have left the squirrels

wanting.

Owl’s vision,

exceptional,

binocular in low light

and knowing

more than man

could surely know,

for if he knew

he would sweep

back below the hillside.

Away-away

the crows would call,

darkly sinister,

reckoning civilization

sinful.

Tsk-tsk building towers

and concrete worlds,

blind patterns now stretch

beneath starlight.

Its glow a curse

to night’s hue,

to the natura...

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