Posts Tagged ‘owl’

Circle of Fifths

October 9, 2009

AWI063

An owl whose face is shaped

into a white heart

may be the only gleaming thing

 

beneath the eave of the house.

Despite its luminance, it never

questions the dark, or asks why

 

it is dark. It merely repeats what must be

its first memory: the click

and shriek of the pulley that lowered it

 

from the moon into this black bay.

I know the body, moving forward,

is pulled continually back. Isn’t this

 

primitive? This bird, whose face

might have been drawn by a child,

can hear, at thirty yards, a mouse

 

stepping on hard ground.

It will fly at night over a black

marsh, then drop ten feet—the mouse

 

grasped with pointed accuracy.

When I was a child, my mother sat

on a piano bench and touched, quickly,

 

the middle key. Listen, she said,

C is both flat and sharp.

Ocean, I thought. End and beginning.

 

                                    —Melanie Carter

The Biology Club cordially thanks Dr. Melanie Carter for contributing this poem to The Neuron!

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