It may have been
about thirty feet tall
taller when you’re small

And on
the very
top would sit
the great horned owl

If the
were to have
an anti-Christmas tree
he could have capped it
as the perfect dark angel

We cowered by the
corner of the house
our very blood frozen
prey to his predator eyes

Yet when he flew away
we could snap – as only
children can – from fear to play

Run to divide the branches
and return once more
to the soft-needled floor

One little two little three
little Indians in our
magic tepee in a
land of long ago

and not so far away