56

If I were an owl, flying high,
what would I think, what would I think if I
saw me* dancing, dancing
high on a hill, alone in the dark,
under a star-filled sky?

If I were an owl hunting for mice,
so crunchy & sweet,
what would I think, what would I think if I
heard me singing, singing
high on a hill, alone in the dark,
under a star-bright sky?

'No moon! No moon!' I might cry if I
were an owl, 'She can't be a witch
for there's no moon,
she's too many clothes,
she's got no broom,and she can't fly!'

If I were an owl and I heard me sing, singing a song
in a tongue unknown, I would sing too,
and my wordless song would come echoing back
from the nearby hills to me dancing, dancing
there on the starlit track.

If I were an owl, soaring high, what would I see,
if I saw me: A fat old lady in too many clothes
(it's cold enough, tha certainly knows)
doing her thing, with a light-full heart,
under a star-filled sky.

*If you are confused about who is the owl and who is 'me'
I can only say: you are meant to be.

Copyright 16 October 1993 by Jessica Macbeth. All rights reserved.
First printed in Crann Beathadh, November 1993, then again in Earth's Daughter, 1994.