The Owl’s Reflection

For the Writer’s Cramp, but inspired by a recent trip to the Legacy Museum in AL.

Once there sat an owl so high
with a bird’s eye view of the world;
from his perch way up high
he gave a dispassionate eye
to events that he watched unfurl.

He saw men down below
with hate in their hearts
attack a black man as a foe;
they entreated to bludgeon
this old man to the death,
under the drooping leaves of a willow.

The owl on its perch
(high up in a birch)
noted the assault without expression,
nor did it make sound
while the men on the ground
hung the man in an act of aggression.

The owl looked on
behind the leaves of the tree
as the mob danced in jubilation
at the death they had caused
of an old man without pause,
“righteous” in his assassination.

As the old man swung gently
from the rope that they’d hung,
the bird readied itself for flight,
reflecting upon only
the beauty in its world
and flew quietly into the night.