The Great Horned Owl

We walked
Through the clover
Of small yellow flowers

To where the deer
Came to feed
In the evening

The hay meadow
Lying along the creek
Leans back in
The crook of its arm

Here the trees are crowded
Around the water
The long drinkers
Like their company

We find the crossing easy;
The creek in summer
Is between rains
And broken in pools and sandbars

Walking across
We leave our sign
Along with the deer and raccoon

I show you the baby hand
Beside a broken house
Where she slipped her arm in
And made a violence of food

Above the creek
We came into a dry meadow
Of wild grasses

Where Post Oak and Hickory
Are rippled in
The constant rubbing wind

We took off our clothes
And lay down on them
And made love in

The spaces that break open
In time and begin over
As a new track—a signature

Of purpose like a passage
Of music that leaps ahead
Then lies beside the wind
And intertwines;
Then we looked for our cigarettes.

Heading back home
A Great Horned Owl
Flew over us as quiet
As a silk piston

And passed so close
We knew it was a sign
And we laughed

Later we recrossed the creek
And lay down in the
Yellow flowers and ate.

Copyright © David Dwinell 2003