the owl

I see the owl, his wide
wings, brown and
stretched, his small head
dipping forward
shadowing overhead
as I walk.
a live squirrel,
grey and white
is held by the owl's
talons.
he doesn't struggle,
or make a sound.
he seems relaxed
flying through the air
so high above the ground,
between the trees.
maybe an agreement
will be reached,
and no one will get
eaten, but i'm sure that
it doesn't work that way
this deep into
fall, days before winter
and snow.