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Night, Sublime
An owl’s hoot
Its lone night-time salute
Echoes eerily from the dark trees
I hear the comforting sounds of the gentle breeze
Whistling outside the house like an old woman’s wheeze
Far off, the village clock strikes one time
The owl hoots at its chime
Night, sublime
Jack Horne, 19th August, for Nette’s Night Melody contest
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