The Barred owl sits, wing feathers ruffled,
Eyes peering into early morning distance
Above him crows circle cawing at his presence
Like black-clad sentries guarding posts.
Their incessant calls reverberate noisily
Until owl takes flight; his four-foot wingspan,
In beautiful display, lifts him into the sunrise.
Still circling nervously crow caw lessens.
Slowly, he distances from the crows, and with
One last circle and swoop back toward roost,
He is off into the blueness of morning
Wood line calming again to birdsongs,
And sunlight reflecting golden on leaves
As they whisper tree secrets to the wind.
Sukoshi Cabs
In ‘72 they all seemed to be little red Toyotas
We respectfully called them suicide taxies
Because of the wild rides the cabbies were
Known to take unsuspecting first timer's on
Compared to a big-block Chevy or Ford
The Sukoshi cabs were lean on horses
But to island standards they were fast
Capable of making a hot rod enthusiast cry
Especially on the quarter mile runs requiring
Lot of finesse down the curvy and crowded Koza lanes
GI's in the backseats begging their non English speaking
Drivers to slow things down just long enough
To allow them to jump to safety, bodies fixed in a forward lean,
Tongues arched, between curses and utterances of intervention.
Down at Sneed's Ferry
Beyond the break water,
Where sun meets horizon line
And the orange kiss of its setting
Paints the last expanse of blue,
We set sail rising and falling
To the rocking rhythm of the waves;
Above us gulls glide, yellow eyes fixed,
Wings beating to the wind's natural rhythm
Patiently anticipating our catch
As we bob like a fisherman's cork,
Nets rolled, toward deeper waters.
Smoke circles from Skipper's pipe
Filling the cabin with perfume,
Cavendish, a cherry blend,
A wonderful aromatic fragrance
Much better than the creatures
Soon to be writhing on deck
Awaiting our hand culling
I'd tire of the routine before
The morning sun circled back
Around to light things up again
Shrimp on ice and body aching.
