Friday, 11 November 2011

5am and I almost forgot the owl




I have been deliberately saving the bats for the other end of the day, but owl was almost overlooked because I don't see it as often. Once (stuck in traffic on the way to the Royal Cornwall Show) we saw an owl hunting in broad daylight. It had a grumpy look to it and we amused ourselves by inventing back stories for it. 


201
A composition of washing hangs
On the spare room airer, plastic rungs
Provide a structure for the slung
Socks and baby t-shirts

202
Over the landing banister
The blue striped duvet cover dries
It went camping, the wet dog had
Left a print of herself on it

203
In the wash-basket, a crumpled
History of last week in dank cotton
Fast-wicking technical fibres and
Odours of sweat, mud, seaweed

204
Surfboards lean in the shed
Crunches of sand pressed into wax
One board-bag zip jammed open, the
Aluminium corroded by salt

205.
The sky is dark until the earth rolls
It still feels like the sun comes to us
Looks for us over the horizon, brings us light
To break the fastness of sleep

206
Morning dilutes night, so birds
Busy in trees, on wires, risking
Ground ventures, can consume in sips
Boosts of brightness

207
The ground surface is wet, is a
Crumpled, flannelled face both
Weary and fresh awake, is a
Fumbling kettle-in-hand body

208
Owl’s last glide, claws extended
Under opal leg-feathers, the gleaming
Wingspan beats once from catch to
Flight, the gold eyes do not blink

209
Dream phases haul up from
Deeper levels, not without
Friction or fight, follow the
Analogy of hooked fish

210
Sheep watch the owl’s swoop
And flight from this grass shore
To the next island in the sea
Of mist and morning calm

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