Encounter with an Owl
Craig W. SteeleDriving through mid-summer’s dusk,
green-leafed palisades, both sides,
flash-by lines of spectral paint
charm me till I’m mesmerized.
Soundless, swooping bird-form glides
haughtily across the road,
skims the headlights’ golden glare:
bark-hued screech-owl’s ghostly drift
through the gloam of rural dark.
Its golden eyes transfix me with
a stern, reproving, glass-eyed stare
for daring to disturb its night.
I hasten on my way, chastised.
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