Owl

N5 to Gex, evening of Wednesday, January 29 03

It has snowed, is snowing.
And up the darkening, spiney arterial,
Now a black slick,
Chequered against sheet-white fields,
We, the day workers, tiring and used,
Toil.

In measured convoy of lonely cars,
Lullabied into a shabby somnolence
Of jaded reverie and dreams of almost,
We are attended by poor but willing companions.
The in-car heating’s thrum,
The asthma throb of windscreen wiper,
The wittering of radio.

Outside, snowflakes shoal in perfection
Brillianced by yellowing lamplight.
A snow-white owl, all dapper, with shallow wing-beat,
Sails overhead,
Deft, and powered by silent scoops of mid-winter’s air
Night sky tears, taut silk rent by shears.
And white, so white, a communion of white,
She glides from view,
Towards the dark and waiting woodland.