OWLS IN AUTUMN
My father killed the white owl there
one leafless autumn day. My hate
blazed like the sunset sky. The bare
tree branches twisted an ornate
design. He did not hesitate.
My father killed the white owl there.
A ruthless hunter shot her mate,
and left the wounded owl, like hare
untimely trapped in poacher’s snare.
Her eyes blinked wide to view her fate.
My father killed the white owl there.
He raised his gun. He did not wait
to offer why—did not relate
that slow death is too much to bear.
So as the autumn day grew late
my father killed the white owl. There.
Kolette Montague, 65, of Centerville, widely honored poet, has spent most of her life in Utah where she finds time and space to write. In 2000 her book Eating Into Light was named Utah State Poetry Society book of the year. Her anthology Chanting the Moon is also published. She is a retired teacher. She has three children and five grandchildren. Her sun sign is Aries.