Apr 10, 2019

a Haibun

The men with chainsaws and a wood-chipper came to trim the trees in the park
across the street. My bird cages are by a window facing the park and the birds
complained about the activity and the noise, especially the conure. He squawked
and raised hell. It was a sunny day, early springtime, and I went outside to watch
the work. There’s at least one owl that lives over there somewhere, and I began to
worry about it. Of course, I don’t really know that the owl lives there, it could just
hunt there, there’s a field and field mice, but in my imagination it lives there. This
side of the street is mine, that side belongs to the owl. Sometime between midnight
and dawn, I went outside and stood there, leaning on my cane, waiting to hear the
soft, familiar ‘hoot.’ It didn’t long at all.

Alone in the darkness
I waited, hoping for a friend.
Old barn owl, welcome!

10 Apr 2019


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