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"
OOAK!
Looooove,
L.
