The Owl [Day 159] 

A TREE CRACKLES overhead; showers of ice splatter a troop of squirrels. They scatter, tails flung high in panic. The mechanical owl flaps its wings, iron feathers scraping together as its pinions settle. It shifts its weight on the frozen branch; bronze talons crack the glossy layer. Another shower descends to the empty, white ground.


Written: 26 Feb 2016

Words: 55

x-posted

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