At the river park there are geese
and ducks and parrots, all talking
their morning talk, and an owl
with a round white face.
Its exquisite flecked and patterned wings
are a spread fringe of white and brown.
Quietly it lies on the grass,
its modest beak closed,
with a tall tree above it,
a trail of ants beside it,
and a black blob for an eye.

(First published in Creatrix)