The summer air cools
And the first crickets chirp
In the descending dusk
As dry grass and gravel
Crunch beneath my sneakers
Perched on a stump
A great horned owl
Swivels his head back to look at me
Startling me from scattered thoughts
Of celebrities, financial woes
And childhood nostalgia
We lock eyes for a moment
And before I can reach for my phone
He flies away over the ravine
Leaving me to wonder what
Divinely owlish thoughts
I startled him from in return.
broken souls and broken hearts,
the sleepless ones who look at torn stars,
the twinkling lights that blink afar,
city lights blurred with blinding cars,
are all befriended by the dreamless faces,
that look like lost and stolen art;
estranged glances and estranged words,
the sound of silence they've always heard,
fragrances of the night that are so absurd,
keep alive the sleepless ones who are lured,
by the dark and scary midnight,
when the sky bears no birds;
fluttering curtains and fluttering wind chimes,
the blazing noise that seeps in from the outside,
sleepless ones try their best to hide,
but Oh! It's already twilight,
the sun and moon sit beside,
while sleepless ones look at committed crimes;
a new dawn and a new day,
it has unwillingly arrived,
another night with no dreams,
another dark time where past screams,
when the moon hears no cries,
it means the sleepless ones have died.
Giant owls
Flying over streets
Giant fowls
Feathers falling like sheets
Back on the ground
We ride on insects
They make not a sound
Keeping us safe from the flying objects
One of the benefits to being an early riser…
is I am blessed to hear and see the interplay
between the night as she clocks out
and cedes the mountains to the day.
There is a lonely owl who, if I’m early enough,
from her spot hidden in the trees
sings a lovely nightly swan song and sets it on the breeze.
She sings in a beautiful soprano…
clear, peaceful and bright…
as she anticipates the day…
with one final nocturne to the night
I think of it as the concluding song of an opera
and how, once her final song is through,
the birds who wake up with the day
begin their musical revue.
Perhaps she’s singing a wake-up song
A gentle musical number
into the ears of the morning birds
awakening them from their slumber.
And perhaps their singing in the morning
once their music fills the sky…
which to me seems like a symphony
to the owl …s a lullaby.
At any rate is it a wonderful way
for each new day to begin…
watching and listening to the nigh clock out
while the day is clocking in.
Sits the monkish owl.
Beneath its own cowl.
If not candled and windowed, lit as
Soft, meditative.
That, wakeful, before
Sinks, wearily, more.
Grass-burnt, sunned life. Flashed too lewd, pranced through.
Dawned; hell-reactive.
Mother Nature does scowl
At greedier leaders howl
As our planet we do foul
Seedier media on the prowl
Don’t throw in the towel
We now live cheek by jowl
Don’t be a plastic freak
Like Simon Cowell
Or return to bombastic peak
Of Enoch Powell
At the meek did growl
A rebuild we all seek
Let’s get out the trowel
He stays up all night, sleeps all day
lives life the wise old owl’s way
Graveyard shift ~
nets him 15% more pay
Written 5th Aug 2026 for weekly poetry competition. August 3rd 2026 to August 9th 2026
I am a tall American Sweetgum Tree
Star- shaped leaves colours of purple yellow and red
Graceful ~ loved by all
Robins land on my branches
Sweetly serenade me
Songs of joy sharing nature’s love
Children skip round me giggling
I am head tree guarding the Magical Forest
Unicorns, fairy’s ~ even goblins love me
People come hug me and tell me they love me
Majestic mountains bow to me
Magical kingdom is place to be
Castle glistens in the sunshine
At night owls hoot to me
Lights surround me showing my beauty
I love all seasons especially winter
Snow dazzles and sparkles on me
People from all over world photograph me
Sitting on brown log in the green woods
Softly humming favorite melody
Serenading the moon as an owl would
Songs of lavender love and charity
Satin wind blowing blues away far
Stars twinkle in wrinkle of stratosphere
Seasonal hope wish upon stars so clear
As the evening draws to a close ,
the clock ticks fast and time goes past.
Soon time reaches to midnight thus a new day begins. All is peaceful and quite no birds dinging their morning song. No foxes cats howling to disturb the peace.
What tranqulity greets the morning even though thenights darkness still resides till morning rise.This Nature stirs snd the birds too. For some their night shift is finished
hip, hip hooray.
The Early risers it is a brand new day.
As for the Night Owls who's mind is so alert
but yet your eyes hurt. Your brain is finding one and a million things to do except the one thing your eyes and body crave.
Sleep ,rest your wary mind .
Let go of the stimulus , unwind , relaxe and close your eyes.Let sleep embrace the night owl now .pleasant dreams night owl for the day is risen. Fear not you are safe things will still be there when you awake and
All will be well.
owl loved turtlenecks especially in red
Give me a cowl, I’ll wear it until I am dead
There was a fierce wind, it had a big howl
A huge beast flew past, another kind of fowl
Was that a raven or crow? Owl asked a pal
I do not know, she said I’m a near-sighted gal
They noted the black bird had a looped jowl
Dripping from it was a giant I, their favorite vowel.
Whoop whoop whoop whoop, two Barking owls in early morn
so close in bush land which they intermittently adorn
It seems they may be mating, one call a lower pitch
I love the calls of nature my soul it does enrich
oh old barn owl
you turn left, you turn right
what do you look for?
darkness falls on woods
let's you know his presence
makes you guess location
When violets bloom deep in the bush,
Just atop their little push;
When fungus balls puff out spores green,
Where they go is never seen;
When rock exposed to sun and air,
Some to keep and some to share;
When lichen catches glimpse of sun,
The living bell has just been rung;
When baby does her first breath take,
Other senses soon will wake.
When owl’s egg slow nervous hatch,
A glimpse of life ahead may catch;
In filtered air sun moonlight be,
But not to mortal ones as me.
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