Fall Night Owl
Through frosted, fall night window panes,
a darkened shape in a pine tree,
an owl tall, tufted, stately,
listening for scurrying prey.
Gliding down, slow, whisper-quiet,
mouse stands out on the dusted leaves,
talons grab hold, down comes the beak...
I am lucky to have espied it.
Flaps back hard for the midnight pines,
with one quick bolt it’s had a feed,
regains its perch, at the ready
to stalk the shadows of night times.
Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2018
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment