Strigiformes
An owl, a spectral essence turned to claw
The shape of moons it tilts beneath, and flesh,
And crescent beak, has tendons for its maw
To grasp its needs. The lunar rays are mesh
For victims and impart orbed hunger in
That gaze. Spread feathers cause the form of breath,
The final gasp of field mouse with that grin
Of agony when talons give it death.
The wings unfold, spread out in silent pride.
They swoop at angles softened by the night.
The whole of life is summed up in the glide
That comes so fast, so fell it cancels fright.
..This midnight bird assumes its perch and turns
….Its eyes and there God’s orange planning burns.
