The Owl

This poem by Mary Oliver

is being shared in honor of an enchanting encounter

I had yesterday morning.

The basswood tree

With four trunks.

One for each direction

North, South, East, West

Or element

Fire, water, air, earth.

In a tiny cove

Forming a vignette-

a serene setting.

My turnaround point

For a three mile walk.

Today I snap a spontaneous shot

to record the vision

The creature appeared 

As if a dream

My breath caught in my throat

A Barred Owl alighted 

On the branch above me.

Wise eyes gazing down.

Awed eyes staring upward.

My body went still 

In wonder and appreciation,

expecting a swift departure.

Mesmerized, I stood transfixed

S/he was not disturbed

When I moved or when I spoke.

S/he even seemed to pose.

Adjusting positions

Seemingly in a mirror

Of my slow movements.

So much so I began to speak

S/he responded in silence.

Finally, I had to go.

A neighbor waiting.

Yet s/he remained

Wise eyes gazing.

I left her there

On my favorite basswood.

In the quiet cove

Now forever marked.

With a presence

And an absence.

 

kastilwell