An owl’s feathers are silent in flight because individual barbs zipper shut so no air can rush through like the sound of desert wind. Each time I find a feather, I brush its webbing like velvet against my cheek. Sometimes, I close my eyes and fan the air by my ear. I hear nothing, only feel a slight breeze.
~ Terry Tempest Williams, Erosion: Essays of Undoing (October 8, 2019)
Photo: Burrowing Owl by Kevin Juberg (via Voice of Nature)
Today I’m flying low and I’m
not saying a word.
I’m letting all the voodoos of ambition sleep.
The world goes on as it must,
the bees in the garden rumbling a little,
the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten.
And so forth.
But I’m taking the day off.
Quiet as a feather.
I hardly move though really I’m traveling
a terrific distance.
Stillness. One of the doors
into the temple.
Gif Source: (via Your Eyes Blaze Out).
1.) Decide you must.
2.) Develop deep respect
for feather, bone, claw.
3.) Place your trembling thumb
where the heart will be:
for one hundred hours watch
so you will know
where to put the first feather.
4.) Stay awake forever.
When the bird takes shape
gently pry open its beak
and whisper into it: mouse.
5.) Let it go.
~ Kathleen Lynch, “How to Build an Owl” from How to Build an Owl and other poems
Notes: Poem, thank you Hammock Papers. Photo: “White-faced Owl“ by | Patrick Monatsberger
Not the bald image, but always –
undulant, elusive, beyond reach
of any dull staring eye
– lodged
among the words, beneath
the skin of images: nerves,
muscles, rivers of urgent blood,
a mind
secret, disciplined, generous and
unfathomable.
– Denise Levertov, excerpt from Williams: An Essay from Selected Poems
Notes:
Sound of wings. Let’s just say: Wow!
Notes:
