Onacona

A white owl appeared from the treetops

A blur of white feathers in a rush

To beat the night’s last darkness

She espied a fleeing mouse

Scurrying wild over fresh snow

Shadowed by her gown of force

Gossamer body of lilies

The valleys true descendent

Silent and somber fret of the cold meadows

Her owl spirit shifting between this

And that world with talons out

Yellow eyes like two gold time pieces

As the clouds passed and broke

She flew with the sky in one wing

To let the sunlight free, chilly white

Carrying her breakfast through the dim light

Her first day lived in the bright

Of the hushed temple forest.