The Night of the Owls

Last night, another big one fell. It splattered like an egg of fire against the cliff behind the house. The ancient owl's nest must have burned hastily. All alone. A glistening armadillo left the scene, rose flecked, head down, tail down. And then a baby rabbit jumped out, short, eared, to our surprise, so soft and a handful of intangible ash with fixed, ignited eyes too. Pretty, dreamlike mimicry o, falling fire and piercing cry and panic and a weak mailed fist clenched ignorant against the sky,. because the armadelo, i guess, has that armor all over him or her yet.