Here's Peggy, three years before she died, reading one of my favorite of her poems.
Low Owl Illusion
Early but already broad daylight this morning
a barred owl glided across the path, so close I saw
wing edges split by a broken shaft, a feathery flaw,
and thin claws that trailed like exposed wiring.
Halfway up a poplar she lit by a nubbly opening,
slipped inside a gap healed around a lost limb's raw
socket, and sank instantly into the dark hollow,
all but her tail, like a bracket on the bark, a warning.
At the high end of hearing, voices thin as a wafer
bled from the tree. She squeezed back out, turned
on me her great fixed eyes and stared down: You.
She held still, but the longer I looked, the less I saw her.
I mean, it was only by blinking back the form I yearned
for that she stayed in view at all, whatever she was and who.



Thank you for that. I love owls, though I have never seen a live one, except once in Bali - a big white one sitting on the back of the driver's seat in a fancy white sportscar (also a rarity in Bali).
Posted by: Wendy Shortland | April 10, 2011 at 04:45 AM
Laura,
I'm glad you posted these! I enjoyed both, and am pleased you could be there to sketch these faces, some very familiar, some not.
Posted by: marly youmans | April 09, 2011 at 09:19 PM
Such a moving post. And beautiful sketches. I've just began sketching again - I'd forgotten how free it feels :0)
Posted by: Sandra | April 07, 2011 at 05:23 PM
These portraits are great, Laura! And I like having her words along with the link--it's marvelous to hear poets read their own work, isn't it? You hear their intended inflections, etc. Lovely.
Posted by: sue | April 06, 2011 at 07:55 PM
Beautiful sketches and a wonderful poem. When we lived across from the woods I often saw them once I learned how to look.
Posted by: Helen Percy Lystra | April 06, 2011 at 12:57 PM
You are such a dear person, Laura, and a wonderful artist. Thanks for sharing this.
Posted by: Sharon | April 06, 2011 at 12:43 PM