It was two days on
from the longest night,
morning glistening
in street lamps,
puddles reflecting
multiple moons,
glistening feathers
pinned back in
predatory symmetry,
the metal of a pole.
And because the out-of-
place is my kind of awe,
we stared at each other
unblinking, like the time
a church was being razed
and a sole stained glass
remained sparkling
above the tumbling dust,
or when someone who
never heard of you
sang out your name
like the light it is,
trickling like sun across
the back of my neck.
**************************
I was walking to the bus the other day when I saw something odd on a street sign. I’ve never had fantastic night vision, so even though it looked like an owl, I figured it was probably a piece of wood. As I walked by it, I rubbernecked like an old man watching a young woman in hot pants. If it was wood, it was wood with feathers growing out of it. Now remember, this is the city. We have crows, yes. Pigeons, check. We even see an occasional dislocated seagull. But I have never seen an owl here, and I have never, ever seen one this close. “Holy moly,” I breathed. Since that’s exactly the kind of thing a mouse would say, the owl spun it’s head around and blinked at me. Chills ran up the back of my neck, “Hi, owl.” I gripped my umbrella tightly. Mice don’t carry umbrellas. Feigning nonchalance, I turned and continued towards the bus.
**************************
I was walking to the bus the other day when I saw something odd on a street sign. I’ve never had fantastic night vision, so even though it looked like an owl, I figured it was probably a piece of wood. As I walked by it, I rubbernecked like an old man watching a young woman in hot pants. If it was wood, it was wood with feathers growing out of it. Now remember, this is the city. We have crows, yes. Pigeons, check. We even see an occasional dislocated seagull. But I have never seen an owl here, and I have never, ever seen one this close. “Holy moly,” I breathed. Since that’s exactly the kind of thing a mouse would say, the owl spun it’s head around and blinked at me. Chills ran up the back of my neck, “Hi, owl.” I gripped my umbrella tightly. Mice don’t carry umbrellas. Feigning nonchalance, I turned and continued towards the bus.