thin ice on the creek

thin ice on the creek --

at dusk an owl swoops silently

from tree to tree

The sun is sitting on the rim of the hill, but in the little valley where the creek meanders the bright orb has already disappeared. As I crunch through the remains of snow and frozen leaves on the path, I spook an owl from its vigil at the top of an oak. It swoops silently upstream a little ways and perches in another tree, watching me warily. Since I am moving in that direction, it keeps hopscotching from one treetop to another, staying just far enough ahead that I can't get it in my viewfinder. Finally, it stays put, but in the gathering gloom it's too dark to get a decent photo. The owl that got away, I think ruefully. 
          It got up to 52 F/11 C this afternoon. The soft snow is perforated by blades of green grass, but the ice on the creek has not yet started to melt. What little water was left after last summer's drought froze into plates suspended above pockets in the creek bed, studded with fallen leaves and shattered where deer have stepped on it. One strange ice formation looks like a hawk with an open beak about to catch the rabbit that didn't get away.