Frost whitens my window.
Shadow glides past – barred owl?
The brow of the pane swallows it.
Certain as frost! My first
Impression darkens. The low sun—
The brow of the sea lowers it.
“Towards a Barred Owl”
Ghost-written by recognition
The brow of the frown conceals it.
Broad chest. Stripes. Patterned flight.
Barred owl, pane to pane.
The brow of the smile reveals it.
[9/15/04 Santa Rosa, CA]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.