Hunter Poem by Jonathan ROBIN

Sage eagle-eyed Great Tawny Owl seems supremely splendiferous fowl,
silent swooping down from bower round the tall ivied tower,
shod in grey feather, fey weather cowl.

In consonant, sometimes in vowel, she shall hoot, haunting horrible howl,
falls the dour twilight hour all small mammals must cower,
for she's stalking some prey, on the prowl.

Should you meet her then swiftly recoil
from smart claw lord, hoar hooded gargoil,
if you're born mouse or mole, scorn a sworn sunset stroll,
for she'll gnaw you raw rather than broil.

Should she mesmerise you little vole, surrender to heaven sweet soul,
seldom simple to foil when she burns midnight oil,
after dark don't deride Darwin's role.

If scaled snake, wide awake seek subsoil,
don't sibilate, shilly-shally, uncoil,
settle snug in some hole or she'll swallow you whole
if you're slow, with some tender trefoil.

Flee, beware, for she wears sombre scowl,
whether weather be fair or be foul;
where there's moonshine or shower she's sure hunter of power,
careless creatures she'll soon disembowel.

On patrol, sovereign Great Tawny Owl,
scans serene, seldom seen til seized jowl,
far afield shall she scour, skimming stream, slope, scrub, flower,
supremely splendiferous fowl.