Spring Hunter
Wan shafts of sun
slipping the clouds
we descent newly ice-free
trails into the ravine
our tread newly assured.
Assertive winds flagellate
bare tree tops
the sound of rough passage
ferociously groaning
the atmosphere.
Faintly, another sound
nags seasonal memory
claiming ownership
floating over the wind's boasts.
Hoooo - Rrrrr - Yuiuiu?
The Great Grey Owl
that transited last winter, back.
Its fond recall of
small furred creatures in abundance
spurred return.
And there, high above,
he sits, alert and huge
under the mast of a
great green pine, perched on a bare limb
eyeing our transit
in this, his recalled territory.
c.2009 Rita Rosenfeld
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