I remember the owl

There's something about owls... all owls, really.  Last night the great horned owl (and, I think, his mate) hooted as the night came on full.  I left the back doors open, put on a sweater, until they went off to do other things.

This morning:

I remember the owl,

His hoot

As the dusk paled

To dark

Last night.

This morning:

The passing faint smell

Of skunk,

The freight train

Rolling rolling rolling.

This morning:

The morning birds

Are quiet

I remember

The owl

In that fading light.