Encounter with an Owl

Craig W. Steele

Driving through mid-summer’s dusk,
green-leafed palisades, both sides,
flash-by lines of spectral paint
charm me till I’m mesmerized.

Soundless, swooping bird-form glides
haughtily across the road,
skims the headlights’ golden glare:
bark-hued screech-owl’s ghostly drift
through the gloam of rural dark.

Its golden eyes transfix me with
a stern, reproving, glass-eyed stare
for daring to disturb its night.
I hasten on my way, chastised.