When the Owl Came to Gunnamatta Park
This rainy night belongs to the owl roosting
above my porch,
the one holding a dying brushtail in a chokehold.
Like an eccentric old man
he arrived unannounced
to stake his claim on our neighborhood.
His presence signaled the occult to some,
a shape-shifter haunting the backyards,
or a golden-eyed conjurer looking for possums
wearing only a feathered cloak.
During the day he sleeps within the hollow
of a rough-barked apple gum
near Gunnamatta Park’s remnant of bushland canopy.
And we wondered if his fragmented habitat
hid a beloved who heeded his moaning call,
a sound suggesting travel over long distances,
or extended periods spent in isolation.
Quite at home on our cul-de-sac,
he practices his conjuring repertoire alone,
perhaps waiting for an answer from the great beyond.
Dan Guenther, Quadrant Magazine, June 2015
