“The Lord knows the days of the blameless, and their heritage will remain forever.”
On this moonless night
the forest floor is alive
with covert ops:
skittish rabbit hops,
voles emerging
from the ground,
tight-wound frogs,
timid field mice
scurrying around.
High above on
a granite crag,
the Great Horned Owl
sits like a king,
his keen eyes
and swiveling head
watching everything.