The owl fell from its nest
And cringed among roots
Yards away, fanning its breast.
We couldn’t hear the hoots
Of his mother. He made no sound,
Afraid of raptor brutes.
He was lucky he’d been found.
I took off my shirt.
We wrapped him round and round,
Carried him to his tree, unhurt,
And let him loose. He didn’t rest —
Rising on claws, he girt
The trunk with wings up to his nest.
