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The Owls

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Below is the poem entitled The Owls which was written by poet Michael Higginbotham. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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The Owls

for my Mother

After the failed attempt to kill herself,
She gaveled up a parliament of owls,
Repurposing every cabinet and shelf
To house her blinkless treasury of fowls.

What comfort came from a gross of hooded eyes
Strewn through her home, I could not even guess.
Yet urgently she unboxed every prize
And for it found some suitable recess.

As executor, I audited the owls.
Seventy-two, my final reckoning.
There was one I liked.  He'd pivot in his cowl
Like a startled monk, when shook.  His shuttering
eyes, like cameras, seemed to document the night.
Her night, I thought: her burden, and her flight.   

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  1. Date: 8/24/2012 4:46:00 PM
    Beautiful write my friend, thank you for sharing hugs vie

  1. Date: 8/23/2012 1:35:00 AM
    Funny yet very deep. You must miss your mother very much. You're not telling us what you did with your stash of owls after all. Nice one, Michael. :)