Full moon over snow, whole of night scene glowed: round full white of the winter moon, silver halo, bright in ring, dimming softly outward into an infinite above snowed earth in pale, fair blue brighter than the silver sky.
In a tree by window’s view, owl rested in its crown.
Anna gazed upon the bird in place, silent and still as the night-glowed scene.
Anna thought of her grandmother—visiting spirits—and wondered if owl was she.
Knowing she was seen, owl remained static in its place. Its large head swiveled slow in sweep from outward hunting search to inward and sight of Anna in window place, its yellow-ringed eyes bright in the moon like snow in sky. Only the trees shone shadowed.
It seemed to Anna that the owl was waiting. For what? Did it have nowhere to be? She caught herself and thought it silly that an owl should have a schedule, destinations and obligations. Where would it go? What would it do?
Still, presence of the owl in place seemed more than simple chance, and the nature of its rest seemed more than idle rest and choose of random place.
Time and again, the owl looked in.
What did she wish to see?
Was it her?
Was that the reason that she stayed?
Intuition and belief.
She trusted intuition and her belief in both magic and mystery.
More than once, she’d encountered and lived magic in the place.
Away, Anna moved from window, as the owl remained in wait.
Returned, Anna’s arms were full, a child in her hold. The little girl rested asleep and nestled to Anna’s breasts. Closed eyes, lips soft pursed and giving soft-sleep sound to each peaceful breath, little girl rested limp and warm in love-trust of her mother’s hold; her little fingers of little hand in soothe of pet, stroke-tracing in her sleep.
Before the window, Anna turned her body so the owl could better see: child’s peace in sleep, closed eyes, drawn-pursed mouth, beginning color of hair and brows. Anna looked on the bird, its countenance changed—wide eyed and more alert, suddenly shifting from its still.
Owl moved from roost and flew more near and from closer bough it leaned—body, neck, and head extending forward to better see, awe at the sight of child.
Anna swore she saw it smile—something of beak and eyes—unbelievable as it sounds to hear repeated and told in word.
Still, she saw what she saw and believed as she did.
More than once, she’d encountered and lived magic in the place.
Sight satisfied, owl disappeared in flight into the night, silent wings and shadows cast over silver sky and night-blue beneath.
In take to wing, Anna felt a sadness, lament at emptiness where before spirit had been.
Feeling was short lived.
Behind, in home, sounded fall of a picture from its place. Strike of frame in hit of floor sounded through the home.
What? Why?
No cause or reason, it happened.
Still holding to the child, asleep and in her peace, Anna went and knelt in recover of fallen frame upon the floor.
Frame and picture were unbroken.
Raising frame, turning to see, Anna held the image close—her grandmother in way and image of memory she chose and saved as ideal for all her rest of life.
Holding close, her grandmother smiled, lovingly, onto child.
Flash of heat moved through her body, sudden warming of the heart.
More than once, she’d encountered and lived magic in the place.
Magic and spirit lived.