The Poem that I was thinking about when I poseted the Sparrow Hawk earlier was The Owl Who Comes by Mary Oliver and it goes like this... The owl who comes through the dark to sit in the black boughs of the apple tree and stare down the hook of his beak, dead silent, and his eyes, like two moons in the distance, soft and shining under their heavy lashes— like the most beautiful lie— is thinking of nothing as he watches and waits to see what might appear, briskly, out of the seamless, deep winter— out of the teeming world below— and if i wish the owl luck, and I do, what am I wishing for that other soft life, climbing through the snow? what we must do, I suppose, is to hope the world keeps its balance; what we are to do, however, with our hearts waiting and watching—truly I do not know. ~ Mary Oliver She speaks so eloquantly, without judgement, she offers words which help me understand the harshness and simultaneous beauty of nature

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