I remember from my childhood in the county of Oxfordshire in England, witnessing beautiful owls who lived nearby in the local woodlands. Stories told at school would talk of how the owl was a wise being, a master of the woods and keeper of knowledge. But as with all life however beautiful, there is always the darker side to consider and respect. For now that I am older I am under no illusion that they are stealthy hunters who strive to survive.
A family of voles scurry,
beneath gnarled, and twisted roots.
Whilst overhead a wizened owl knows,
now’s, not the time to hoot.
With swift and deadly precision,
he swoops upon his prey.
As one small vole is taken,
one less, goes home today.
With outstretched talons poised,
to deliver to his nest,
As nature’s cruel intention,
becomes food stuff for the rest.
© Cheryl Mary Coleman, 2018 – Expression #192 20.4.18
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