Dan Guenther: When the Owl Came to Gunnamatta Park

When the owl came to Gunnamatta Park

This rainy night belongs to the owl roosting

above my porch,

the one holding a dying brushtail in a chokehold.

Like an eccentric old man

he arrived unannounced

to stake his claim on our neighbourhood.

His presence signalled the occult to some,

a shape-shifter haunting the backyards,

or a golden-eyed conjurer looking for possums

wearing only a feathered cloak.

During the day he sleeps within the hollow

of a rough-barked apple gum

near Gunnamatta Park’s remnant of bushland canopy.

And we wondered if his fragmented habitat

hid a beloved who heeded his moaning call,

a sound suggesting travel over long distances,

or extended periods spent in isolation.

Quite at home on our cul-de-sac,

he practises his conjuring repertoire alone,

perhaps waiting for an answer from the great beyond.

Dan Guenther