Gunshot shatters rural noon,
boomerang of birds erupts from cover,
hurtling towards heralded risk.
Later in the shining day we see a barn owl
lost on the canal bank clawing tree
stumps nervously.
I sense we have no future,
it is erased in a flash
of those panicked, tawny wings.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem