June 19, 2021
The dishevelled little owl had thought silent flying was something the wind let her do.
That it moved over her feathers in a certain way, making no sound.
Then a grand-owl told her the truth.
'It’s not what the wind does with our wings. It’s what our wings do with the wind.'
He opened his wing and spread it. (Nut-brown and night-black.)
'Vane fringes and dorsal velvet stop owl feathers rubbing,' he said.
He turned himself slowly, so she might see.
'They cut the noise. Make flying easier.'
'Silent flying is who I am,' she thought.
She was proud to think owls had shaped themselves so cleverly.
'I always thought it was how you treated me,' she told the wind.
'But it’s how I’ve treated you.'