He glides, descending to the forest floor -- his round face like an African mask, carved out of soft wood. He sails down smoothly (his face as wide as his shoulders with big ears jutting straight up like horns) -- descending to the forest floor where a mouse scurries along. And the wingspan of the great night bird spreads, showing his white plumage in this, his pale phase, as he snatches it he sings and dances in the half-light, scattering dry leaves, spreading again those great wings. On the takeoff he fans his fluffy black-and-white tail. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE AGED STRANGER; AN INCIDENT OF THE WAR by FRANCIS BRET HARTE SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MRS. BENJAMIN PANTIER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE PRINCESS: [BUGLE] SONG by ALFRED TENNYSON QUATRAIN: FROM EASTERN SOURCES: 1 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE BROTHERS OF BIRCHINGTON; A LAY OF ST. THOMAS A BECKET by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THE JUDGMENT by KATHARINE LEE BATES ON THE EVE OF DEPARTURE FROM O-- by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS |