Secrets of the Owl
Red Eastern Screech Owl
Ginger moonlighter, striated
in cinnamon spice and cream,
beautifies the stage with backdrop
of an ebony-stream horizon.
He perches alone
like a sculpture carved from
bark. Glossed in ginger, sparkling eyes
penetrate darkness in golden amber
gaze. Spiced wing-span drapes into sky,
as small creatures scamper
in wind song before his flight.
Then, harmony breaks into harsh
screeches of hunter to midnight.
Instinct infuses the senses - a sullen
lowering of head before swooping in
to the hum of quivering fields of grass
and restless rhythms of beginnings and ends.
He descends, crested in darker shades of crimson,
piercing the shield of night, with a sudden
shift from grace to strength.
Outside my window, I see a swift shadow,
like a sprinkling of spice, and then all is still.
I am desperate to know his secrets,
so, I ask him to come, please, teach me his ways.
Teach me, in ginger swirls, how to sway the clouds
and charm spirits watching from the ground.
He never replied, but burrowed deep
into my sleep, a rusty-red, gentle heartbeat.
All is wild in dreams -
One glimpse of a miracle
One glimmer of light
One fleeting moment
calls me to believe. I am convinced, some answers,
we are not meant to receive.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
