the owl before dark

there's an owl

in the blue

dark

of the trees as the sun

slips

into the rocks

and hills

beyond

the sea. we stop for it

when we

hear

his deep voice

calling out.

we look

up.

we look for the burnt

yellow

of his eyes,

the spread of his wings,

the glint

of his talons

gripping limbs,

but

there's only shadows,

and we realize,

there's much in these woods,

that can see us,

but we can't see them.