Barn Owl in the Churchyard
He lives in the attic above the choir loft.
I have not told the board or any parishioner
for fear they might demand
the broken grate be fixed.
How did I discover this?
Sometimes, when God is very far away,
and I am unable to sleep, I get dressed
and walk over to the church to pray.
On such an excursion, I saw him glide
among the headstones, pluck a mouse,
and fly into the darkness
like the ascension of a soul.
This morning, I was in the tool shed
searching for the hedge clippers, but found
the pick and shovel the sexton used
before the cemetery became full.
Turning to go, I glanced at the door,
no wider than the mouth of a grave.
The first rays were cresting the hill,
and the owl sailed across the open frame.
Sun back-lighting his tawny wings
reminds me of Gabriel. Messengers
of a higher spirit, we share this place
called home.
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