Within Without

Day and night Over my years I watch This full owl body carved from the light Of wood With its slimly painted feathers and howling eyes Held in swooping flight At an angle On a string From our family room Ceiling Circles in the heat of our furnace vent Glides in its corner in summer breezes That is beautiful enough Its constant motion suspecting me A mole Watching TV But there is more This owl was born twice Once At the hands Of whomever imagined Her Then sculpted its wings and face Mysteriously leaving off its legs and talons But then From the Christmas gift Given to me By my four children Who romped and stomped as a teenage gang Into the Old Town art gallery The owner suspicious Ignoring Then trailing them Sighs of worry Please don’t touch The not-so-subtle mention Of the price Perhaps my kids were too young to understand The insult Pooling their coins and perseverance But what a joy When there is still innocence Alive Like that They thought Their dad would love an owl And an owl was what their dad was going to have Flying across the room Where he spends his time Now And how right they were Every day every night Through all the seasons I look up With wonder At their miraculous flight.