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Image for the poem Crown Plumage

Crown Plumage

I dreamt an owl landed on my head
before I awoke and wondered why
fowl so mighty would thereby tread
when it might command an entire sky?  
 
Has it fancied me as a totemist?  
 
So brief was the dream, and its midnight touch;
strange talons with which I must coexist
as now my psyche is within its clutch!
 
What is the purpose of this spirit bird
past being a bird that I cannot flip?
Has it trounced my last discouraging word
or just my scalp as a landing strip...
where both of us might rest for a bit
to clean our quills and hone our wit?
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