Archive for the ‘Owl’ Category



At night my heart beats
in the small cave of my breast.

In day, the heart takes off
and might become an owl.

My heart might be the owl
I saw fly from tree to tree.

It might become your heart,
and beat in your dark cave.

Or the owl, might find
a better place to land.

A lake with a tree,
where the forest does not end.


poem: Sarah Fuhro           photo: Robert Fuhro

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gas fired heron

I am a smoky owl,

my eyes see best at night.


I am a disconsolate crow,

with a voice like sand.


I walk the path of the tree,

ever watchful red squirrel.


My arms are hawk wings,

slow beat through rain.


My feet are delicate,

the deer in me is swift.


I move low to the ground,

serpent in a stone wall.


I am the heron gate

to the still world of spirit.


poem: Sarah Fuhro

Pottery and photo: Sarah Fuhro

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