(rhymes written after reading Simon Barnes’ blog post Barn owl in the snow)
Across the marsh, white passing over white
the silent hunter flies then loses height
descending to a favoured perch to stand
and view with icy gaze an icy land
Stray snowflakes catch my fancy, frivolous
but never his; his hunt is serious.
Across the marsh, white passing over white
Outside the stables, freezing at the sight
I let my busy, muck-filled spade fall still
A thought occurs that gives a further thrill:
this, and the pellet found the other day
suggest the owls have come back here to stay!
Across the marsh, white passing over white
Fight on! Though cold Spring breeding left its blight
The pellet, when with tweezers prised in two
revealed the fine-boned relics of a shrew
strange artefacts of Lilliputian size
a fascinating wonder for young eyes.
Across the marsh, white passing over white
he signifies to me a world put right
Will future generations ever know
that world? To them, and our own souls we owe
our best attempt to turn the tide around
so nights then still awe-shiver at his sound.
Across the marsh, white passing over white
A treasured moment; may a poet write
some verses that will eloquently share
this plea and make the world more keenly care
and feel, if all is lost, how dear the price.
For now, the humble lines here must suffice.
ROCK ART 4 REWILDING 