Who? Who?

Those eyes – I felt them before I saw them.

The soft touch of curious alertness

Followed my steps along the dirt path

Between two large and aging teak trees.

.

Looking up, I scanned the branches,

Detecting an observant presence.

But I could not see anything other than

Leaves, bark and bright white sky.

.

Looking again,

I saw two-yellow-eyes staring down at me.

An owl – a small grey and white feathered being,

Sitting like a tree-yogi in open-eyed meditation.

He didn’t seem to mind when the flash went off.

He didn’t fly off or hide when I

Stepped forward for a closer view.

He sat quietly watching from a high-branch,

as I moved in the shadow of the tree.

.

What better meeting than this mutual appreciation

Of two forms distinct in their outer wear,

But the same in silent mystery –

What better meeting could there possibly be

Under the branches of an aging teak tree.

 

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