Magic Owl, English Beat Poetry

I lay relaxing in the tall verdant grass admiring the way the sunlight streamed through the leaves of the trees before me. Then I saw this wonderful wooden owl. It flew swooping and lifting through the trees and telegraph poles, vaguely glistening as it passed through the streaming rays of light that penetrated the foliage above. The owl came to rest upon an electric cable.

At first I thought that being wooden it could safely rest here, since it could not conduct electricity. Then I noticed that it had a kind of clockwork demeanor to it. I could see in its movements that it was part machine, there was a kind of mechanical ballet about its capering up there.

I reconciled its position on the wire with it being merely perched on the one of them, rather than both the positive and negative. It seemed to sense my thoughts, leapt up a little distance and came to rest straddled across both the electric cables. I noticed that the owl's feet were brass.

That it sensed my thoughts, or doubts, about it, as much as it not malfunctioning in a blister of crackles and sparks, convinced me it was magic.

Then, with another mechanical whir, it turned its head about face and I saw its eyes. Its eyes, by rights, should have been an anti-climax. They were just two plainly carved out ovals, painted white, each with a single black dot at its centre. As if its creator had become bored with this endeavor and wishing to hasten off into another project had decided to finish this one abruptly. The effect of these deceptively bland eyes did not diminish the owl's magic - rather enhanced it considerably.

That these crude and inorganic etches in the owl's baroque wooden head could see at all was miraculous. Not only that, the owl's eyes gave me the ability to see more clearly too. I saw the intricacy of the rounded carving of each of its feathers. I saw them shimmering vaguely with the gold leaf that had been lovingly embossed within the grains of the wood prior to varnishing. I saw the chisel marks about its wise face.

We had a telepathic conversation. I don't recall any of this I just hope that some of what that owl told me remains locked within my mind.

I could see all around me too. Behind me on the river was my boat, where I lived. I reached to touch the owl, which I perceived as if it were mere centimetres from face. As I did so I saw the pores in my skin and the individual hairs on my flailing arm. The owl flew away through the distant trees shattering the illusions of proximity in its wake.

I didn't dare turn to see if my boat remained behind me. The sense of loss at the magic owl's departure was too great and I could not stand another disappointment that I regarded as inevitable.