FIRST SNOW AND THE OWL

This poem I wrote while I was at Leicester University studying for a BA in English Literature.
One of my lecturers was poet Robert Wells who was on the editorial board of the English Faculty's 'Poetry Worksheet'. The Spring 1982 edition carried this poem of mine which Robert Wells had seen and recommended for publication. 

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FIRST SNOW AND THE OWL
Sun's haemorrhageOn snow's anaemia momentarilyLights up the owl's alarm.
Pink freezes blue in the forgetfulnessOf moments while the owlCalculates winter's coming.
Above, numb limbs of treeGirdle him in stupor,Sore, separate suddenly from his hooting.
Conspicuous as blood on snowHe breathes steadily beneath measuredFeathers.
He will not hoot again,Or call to the vast, heedless settlingDelicacy. The nest is cold.
This he knows, eyeing the white shockOf the hibernal onset, mistrustful,Weighing a branch beneath his weight.
Below him, slow, the roots leak pathsIn the void, rising, stern, determinedLike the grip of bruised fingers.
The owl flies low, buoyed up by fearAnd the air's crisp parsimony,To warn the sun.