Barn Owl

from a veil of liquified air
a night hunter forms
tracing the vein of the marsh
a flake of fallen moon
tumbling across the reeds
bent by the North-East wind
seeks prey driven up by flood
its silent scouring
spreading silver shivers
through night-cowed fowl
who sit in trepidation
on black mirror pools
muttering their muffled complaints
helpless until the dawn


n.b. NaPoWriMo 2023, Day 2 prompt (too complicated to reiterate here), led me to this.

CLP 02/04/2023