Daylight

The owl's immensity
gripped my morning feet.

A winged cat, sailing

on forest breath,

he soared, swooped,

dove in weaving

silence.

I marveled like a child

when he lit.

I craved a seat

on the long pine arm,

to touch

his tawny crown of cool assurance.

He was a daylight gift.

Forever I stood, he sat.

Then he slipped

his sun meditation

like warm honey.

He unfurled and fell

aloft, dreaming again

of night,

when he is king

on the blue-black wind.