great horned owl

poem by me ♡

I follow the flight and calls
wild prairie grass tangling around legs
wild seeds weaving into hair
wild shadow and light dusting skin 

I journey on and farther, through
fresh doorways made of bark and vine
- then, he places a feather into my hands
and the wild air grows soft, grows still

He flies me back, through the woods,
the grass, the tangle of thorns and blooms
down the old gravel country road
my feathered torch of collected light

Cocooned inside again, I curl into sleep
smelling wild, feeling wild, thinking:
the dark woods are home, the sky is home,
and so is this, and so am I.

♡

Science info in the graphic referenced from Owl Research Institute and Forest Preserve District - Will County.