Poetry

I saw a big brown barn owl
only the fluttering of wings
without any sound or howl
 
falling right out of the black sky
quickly swooping up a grey mouse
while at great speed it passed by
nearer to the barn than the house
 
in the early dark morning light
it hovered at the right height,
it whooshed away in its flight.
 
What brought the owl on the right track,
in its struggle for existing
gave the mouse no time to flee back
if not design in each living thing?