Owl Road


by krista leigh pasini

Barren crags thrust up from the earth in a symmetrical row along a snow packed mountain road. Casting soft shadows into a frosty field below. A lone figure perched in the last hours of daylight surveying the landscape. Wings opened slightly like an unbuttoned jacket as the breeze passed through the chocolate charcoal feathers, flecked with accents of ivory. A solitude of diligence waiting for dinner to pop up through the blanket of snow. Dagger like and dexterous claws wrapped around a favored branch, a panoramic perch populated each dusk with wisdom and mystique. The dormant grove seldom empty at twilight, often adorned with a handful of sky bound hunters, exposed to gale force winds and sub zero temperatures the aged and weather bark glints silver in the sunlight. Complimenting the tufted bib of white and grey feathers.

As I called up, black fierce penetrating eyes glared down, accented by whispy ear tufts suggesting alertness and irritation. In a moment the mastery and power of that stare translated into my bones, a look so direct, a lecture, from my mouth - an embarrassed apology. And the watch resumed, steadfast to the landscape - listening, scanning for opportunity. Savoring the solitude of Owl Road.