Owls

My screensaver is an owl

super-realistic,

tiny, speckled white on medium brown,

translucent rose gold talons

gripping soft, luminous, yellow green moss,

yellow-rimmed black pupils

staring

into the camera,

eyeshine reflecting the blue sky

on that day the photographer

laid in a belly-flop for endless hours

to

click

one

perfect

shot.



But I

have seen

real

owls

risen

inexplicably

from the dust

of backroads.



They are

silent

spectral

sentinels

of dusk,

soft shadows

noiselessly

effortlessly

mysteriously

rising on humid air

just before

you

blindly

step

on

one.