Owl - Richard Fleming

In a green lane in St Peter’s
near midnight, under a full moon,
a pale owl
flew across my path, silently,
then low
over dark fields to the tree-line, hunting.

I turned
to watch his tireless sweep
over dumb ground, mist spreading like a shroud,
till I lost sight of him,
and coldness, creeping,
turned my leaden footsteps home.

In bed, near daybreak,
I jerk awake, heart pounding,
mindful of accelerating time, moments eaten up,
of golden, soundless wings,
that questing eye;
sharp talons reaching for my heart.

Richard Fleming

This poem first appeared in The Man Who Landed, as part of A GUERNSEY DOUBLE, a joint collection with poet, Peter Kenny.

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