THAT SAME OLD OWL
Walking up to the window
winter gray first morning light,
I missed him, didn't see
he sat atop the garden fence post,
then did, & stopped, & he knew
I'd stopped when I saw him,
& he was still, no move
until I moved, took one small step back,
& he turned, flew straight away,
passed into the gray & white trees
James Koller
15 Jan 09
from A River I Couldn't Find
No comments:
Post a Comment