Owl

1.My beautiful two-toned friend,
Your horned head no longer grinds,
Your eyes shivering light.
There's rust on your short hooked beak,
Your breast feathers run with slime.
I can't even tell how you fell.

2.Turning the bird with my toe,
No sudden flush,
No zephyr-like rush to vacant air,
No blur-to-dot, and gone.

3.Each car rocking the gray road
Blasts a hot wind,
Spreading the owl's wing,
Which falls like a broken accordion.