Anna and the Owl

the forest-green rangers

at the greeting center

at the head of the forbidding canyon

remind anna each time she comes

that the owl a day’s hike in

is just a stone formation

a few hundred feet up

half again the size

of a full-grown oak

perched where the impression

of claws grasps what appears to be

a giant limb of petrified wood

she smiles but knows better

she climbed trees before

when she was a wild child

left free to roam

her parents

tolerant

open then

gone

when she was

dangerously

too little to be

up close out high on a branch

conversing with birds

she makes her journey

three or four times a year

with her brindle mastiff

along the dusty familiar trail

camps at the base

waits for dusk when

they are alone

watches as

the ancient predator awakes

stirring slowly from sleep’s depths

drawing from the rocks

the increments of life

massive head turning

yellow eyes scanning

to take in whatever's left

feathers shaking

fluttering

wings unfolding

spreading

blocking the last of the sun

thrusting its hungry body up

into a jeweled night

in search

of prey and

sacrifice

she has never been afraid

so she keeps coming back

to her sacred place

anna knows what she sees

sees what she believes