Crashing forward

Earlier this week when I was out getting the bird feeders, I could hear some owls chatting. It sounded like they were over behind my neighbor’s house. Their backyard butts up to the wooded area that ends the neighborhood and it’s where the deer often enter the yards (and fox sightings happen). I tried to listen closely to see if there was anything they wanted to tell me but the cicadas were out of control. Ear splitting levels of sound.

Because we are crashing toward the fall equinox the light was perfect and low and, because we are crashing toward the fall equinox, the temperature and humidity were also perfect and low. I stood out a long time. The brown cat came by to see the flat cat and agreed I could talk to her for a few minutes but she really was looking for a groundhog and left me quite soon. She comes around mornings and afternoons and looks in my windows, I know she’s looking for Ursula and Zora, so I broke it to her today that they are gone. She took it well, bit me while we talked and then walked off to her next adventure. That’s how she is.

Tonight, the owls are quiet, the cicadas calm, we’re suppose to get another few hot days and then we may slide into fall. I’m ready.

Owls as love birds

I imagine in their cages that they see me a prey,
that at the moment the door is left they will swoosh out,
hold me down with their talons. Do they hear a death knell
when I speak; pretend that I am some rodent
to digest and pass? As I walk past, indifferent eyes
never look at, but through me.

I believe that even though they hunt as solo entities,
they would tag team me like an evil wrestling duo,
each hold another horrible and unfair pain. Would I blame
them, plotting like this, if they plot?
Deep, deep in the dark they call in their hollow
throated way, and my heart tells me to beware.