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Within Without
Day and night
Over my years
I watch
This full owl body carved from the light
Of wood
With its slimly painted feathers and howling eyes
Held in swooping flight
At an angle
On a string
From our family room
Ceiling
Circles in the heat of our furnace vent
Glides in its corner in summer breezes
That is beautiful enough
Its constant motion suspecting me
A mole
Watching TV
But there is more
This owl was born twice
Once
At the hands
Of whomever imagined
Her
Then sculpted its wings and face
Mysteriously leaving off its legs and talons
But then
From the Christmas gift
Given to me
By my four children
Who romped and stomped as a teenage gang
Into the Old Town art gallery
The owner suspicious
Ignoring
Then trailing them
Sighs of worry
Please don’t touch
The not-so-subtle mention
Of the price
Perhaps my kids were too young to understand
The insult
Pooling their coins and perseverance
But what a joy
When there is still innocence
Alive
Like that
They thought
Their dad would love an owl
And an owl was what their dad was going to have
Flying across the room
Where he spends his time
Now
And how right they were
Every day every night
Through all the seasons
I look up
With wonder
At their miraculous flight.
Copyright ©
Robert Trezise Jr.
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