THE BARN OWL
In late summer
I feel the chill again
the first marauding
from the high plateau
I can sense the teeth in everything
and claws under rock and ti-tree
biting down
in the dry sand of the creekbed
I find the skeleton of a barn owl
and snap off its skull
with a twist of my thumb and forefinger
I string it
with a length of fishing-line
and for days
I wear it around my neck
dreaming at night
of the crack of lizard-bones
the death-cries of small marsupials
the hard beak
as I work
knocking against my chest
the great, absent eyes
as I sleep
watching from eucalpyts
or waiting in dark rafters.
© 2005, David Brooks
***
Totally handmade, every tiny detail, every bit made with love! Every owl I create has her own character and soul.
Beautiful perwinkle chalcedony.
Dimensional handmade owl and and magical vintage window.
Golden brass crescent moon.
Sterling rollo chain 18"
Ready to ship
Looooove,
L.
