APRIL SUNRISE: VIEW FROM THE POET’S WINDOW
~after Emily Carr
Purple pillars and crossings,
fine traceries of lavender
against blue-black. Just visible
through a window framed
on the right by a spent
Christmas cactus, a patch of white,
promising gold.
Where the owl blended
into the ash at sunset,
there is no owl,
just a feather-shaded
space where she sat
regarding the grubby garden
just out of sight.
GladErrand 
i love grubby garden, and the elusive owl. like this damned spring