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Jane Morton Poem
I'd never seen a burrowing owl
But knew immediately
The creature bobbing up and down,
Most surely must be he.
I sucked in breath and let it out.
I held it after that.
I thrilled to see this special owl
In natural habitat.
I didn't try to get too close.
I gave him lots of space.
I didn't want to scare him off
By getting in his face.
I walked to see him every day.
One morning I saw two.
My little owl had found a mate,
And she was out on view.
Just seeing them would stir my soul
And make my spirit soar.
Then came a time they weren't in sight.
I moved in to explore.
I found some feathers, half a wing,
And some spent shotgun shells,
And as I think about it now,
Again my anger wells.
Those owls weren't shot for feathers, food,
And not in self-defense.
This shooting had to be for fun,
Although that makes no sense.
The burrow where the two owls lived
Was but a little place.
The hole they left inside my heart
Is big as outer space.
Copyright © Jane Morton | Year Posted 2005
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Details |
Jane Morton Poem
When Phyllis canned her peaches
just two months before she died,
She did it for her family,
she'd done it since a bride.
She canned the summer sun for them
and sealed it in a jar.
Next winter when they shared her gift,
she wouldn't seem so far.
She always did her canning when
the fruit had reached its peak,
But this year cancer sapped her strength,
and chemo left her weak.
Despite the many mutant cells
which had metastasized,
She did what she had always done,
she peeled and sterilized.
She left behind this last fine gift,
and one more memory
Of Phyllis canning peaches
out of love for family.
Copyright © Jane Morton | Year Posted 2005
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