Night Stalker plaintive lowing marks a fullness
plodding hooves beat milking time
our path cuts deep through grassy stubble
empty pails await in twilit autumn's eve
silent wings take station at my back
soaring raptor of the night
ears alert and watching
in patient blind-spot stealth
furtive scuttles flee our steps
telltale interruption of pastoral ease
sudden wingtip eddy prickles up my neck
deeper, darker shadow drops to earth
startled hearts adrenalize
in sympathetic fright
as shrieking mice share primally
the plight of hunted prey
As a boy, I used to round up our dairy cows twice a day. In the fall we turned them into the hayfields to browse whatever grass was left. One year, an owl learned to use us as 'beaters' to scare up mice as we trudged along the cow path. I almost never saw it until the final strike, even though it would circle only ten feet over my head. I never heard it either, although I felt the breeze from its wings a couple of times.
Rewritten for Round 113 of Shadows and Light Poetry Contest
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