Barn Owl Poem by Gert Strydom

Like a ghost somewhere from a tree,
sometimes from the roof
it calls out and people shiver
believing that death
is associated with its voice

they hear the chilling noise
and I
a fluttering of wings,
the sound of snatching claws,
a startled peep from a mouse or rat
and in reality it is only that
and nothing more
than a hovering predator
calling out before a kill
to some with a thrilling voice
full of death.