Forgotten Ground Regained
White Owl Irruption
First they come flying, fast as Finn at Finnsburgh,
when he laid swift sword · in steady lord's lap
looking for raw revenge. So did these raptors
beat on, wind-rowing, catching breezes, · breath or blow,
steadily southward, stealing by night
down from the tundra, tacking against time.
Snow-backed owls, ominous, soaring toward food,
sustenance needed, in search of prey, presently pensive,
late-lighting on rooftops, landing in marches
hungry, hollow, come to harbor here,
virtual Vikings · invading our shores,
baring barred backs · to bask in winter sun.
Originally published in New Crops from Old Fields: Eight Medievalist Poets ed. Oz Hardwick, Stairwell Press, 2015. Reprinted in Forgotten Ground Regained, New Series, Issue 5, Winter, 2025
Copyright © Pam Clements, 2015
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