I have a photo framed and hung upon my wall
Of the view from the end of my road:
Cactus and sand, the shadow of mesquite and scrub,
The desert lit by sunset as if by flame.
And thus I have the first tentative lines of a poem. Last night I heard an owl outside my window. It was likely sitting on the neighbor's roof line. There was a time, when that photo was taken, when we heard owls all of the time. Across the road the other way there was once a large open field (much as I am sure there was where my house sits) and in that field was a large, albeit dead, tree. That tree was special because every year a pair of large great-horned owls would come and nest in that tree.
In addition to the horned owls we would hear screech owls and other small "hoot" owls. They would often perch on the peak of our roof at night and wait for the movement of mice and snakes, large insects, and whatever else seemed appetizing. We would sometimes go outside and look up at them there. Their heads would turn on a swivel, but they never viewed us as much of a threat and so just sat there and kept their watch.
All of these fields are gone now, taken over by housing developments and a post office. If I were to stand where that photo was taken I would be standing on the pavement of the widened road, at risk of being run over by the ever-increasing number of cars that speed past. For the most part the owls are gone, or at least scarce. We haven't seen a horned owl in years now. The coyotes are fewer, though I hear them singing in the distance sometimes of a quiet night. Javelina are rarer, too--where we once had a dozen or more in our front yard on late winter nights, it's a rare thing to see them around at all.
I've always known I am not innocent. I am part of the sprawl, not part of its solution. We were among the new vanguard, moving into the subdivision when it was more empty lots than homes. But it still pains me to realize just how fast it all disappears and how soon people forget why they move places--they move to get away from the cities and what do they do? They build new cities all around them.
I miss the owls and coyotes and the javelina in my yard. I miss the cactus wrens and know the meaning of the coming of the grackles and sparrows and house finches.
I hope to get a poem out of this. I don't know if those first lines will remain or remain the same, but I'll give it a go and see what happens. If I finish it, I'll post it here.
