The barred owl sits on a lofted limb,
Her white feathers puffed up from the cold.
A curious grey mole pops up from the snowy depths below,
Suddenly, she swoops!
Claws extended; she grabs the furry creature & in two rhythmic gulps,
Ga-lump, ga-lump.
She swallows him whole.
Nina Livellara, Woodbury
This poem was written for the Verse-Village celebration of April Poetry Month.
