Great-Horned Owl Poem by L C Vieira

Great-Horned Owl

Rating: 5.0


The big owl died because of crows.
They caught him sleeping, chased him away,
that lazy famous afternoon
half a century ago.

A hundred yards into the forest,
twenty yards to ash tree tops,
the young teen boy holds the gun,
right eye tight to the scope.

Did he brace against a tree?
Did he shake? He can't remember.
He did hold cross-hairs to the prize -
One deep breath in, one half out -

and squeeze!

A hundred yards, and one inch lower.
Dead on. One shot. In the throat.
No squirrels that day, but one big smile.
Dead on. Dead Great-Horned Owl.

(2012)

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
cosmas mairosi 26 December 2015

The tale is swift and lovely!

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L C Vieira

L C Vieira

Lisbon, Portugal
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