Souvenir d’une Tempête, Confolens

The barn owls lost their home tonight.
The tree crashed on the stable’s roof
and knocked its tiles into the night.
The horseshoe from the champion’s hoof
fell from the stone wall it has graced
two hundred years and disappeared
in hay the falling tree displaced.
Like flapping bats, though smaller-eared,
the barn owls flew, but one was grazed
by a cedar branch that broke its wing.
Its mother circled back, full crazed
by winds, but could not do a thing.
The wounded owl chick rallied twice
then died, relieving many mice.