Okay, maybe it’s less art and more fun with food, but still. Owls!
Steve got me a camera for our anniversary. Expect more really thrilling pictures like this. Owls!
Okay, maybe it’s less art and more fun with food, but still. Owls!
Steve got me a camera for our anniversary. Expect more really thrilling pictures like this. Owls!
Owls? You like owls? Here are owls!
“… My masterpiece
Came that black night on the Grantchester road.
I sucked the throaty thin woe of a rabbit
Out of my wetted knuckle, by a copse
Where a tawny owl was enquiring.
Suddenly it swooped up, splaying its pinions
Into my face, taking me for a post.”
— Ted Hughes
Merry Christmas Julie.
And here are more owls: you made me attempt a poem for the first time in many weeks.
At the Sign of the Owl and Angel
——————————–
An owl: how Christmassy!
You babbled home from pubs: blurrish you saw
moths in a midnight boardgame; every vein,
every conspiring speck of dust your own
found angel for your knee.
Today you’re ten years older, and the maw
is wider oped. Depressing that the lane
has had its streetlamps pistoled out; that bone,
feather-triumphant, rules where once was hope
might last a pub-walk long;
depressing there’s so many predeceased
have tried to lave themselves with the same soap
you haired and sang this song:
by owls and myths you’ll never be released.
Merry Christmas, Didi.
Peter! Owls! Lovely. Happy Christmas to you, too.