Fin (the Owl of Cwm Cawlwyd)
by Jenny Bates
It’s raining, and my dreams of an evening meal
feel like a wet discarded rag.
It’s a blanket of a day.
Wisely, I wrap my disappointment around me and dream of fish;
whose fins carry them through water like my wings through air.
It’s ironic being an owl, thinking myself unearthly.
Endowed with so many good creature gifts,
Except in the earthbound shackles of rain.
In the rain I must suffer the crucifixion of natural ignorance.
A glitch in my creation, I get the joke.
The earth used to be more thoughtful, I think.
I’ll laugh with all the other birds at dawn and dusk,
raising my voice, for no one need tell me what to do.
I’ll hunt masterfully in the moon glow bending in the clear night.
For it’s between twilight and the morning star
they all know me to be subtle and sublime.