Owling

Twin sentinels of the night
guard the gambrel topped shed
that crowns the meadow.
Spooky, silent, sage, 
they watch us watch
the falling dark.

A lifted wing soundlessly replaced.
Talons lifted, set down.
Suddenly, harshly “Zeet Zeet Zeet”  
calls bounce off the dense trees,
collect on feathered facial disks,
penetrate ears and awaken instincts.

Suddenly aloft on silent wings
the owls glide, climb on air
then set gently on a limb.
We are aware, we beware.

A sudden cluck at our feet,
two chicks materialize 
from grey shadows
and hover over dying prey.
They gently peck and  play 
with tiny corpses, 
of moles, voles, and mice.

These sentinel ghouls––are
vigilant parents tending their young.