Tuesday, September 23, 2014

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.

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