July 14, 2017
It’s Two o’clock and the house tucks
itself in, settling for the night. The old wood
creaking, sighing, purring itself to sleep.
Tonight, I am its sentinel.
Between solitude and sleep, two fatigues
push and pull me down a valley of purple haze
while fragments and dried feathers snap,
scrape and break against my cheeks. Here bare
knuckled skin brush away a flow of tears.
Peering over the window ledge, past a manse
of murky oaks and pines, a scroll of scattered
words try to work free from their tussle of cares.
Shaking my head from side to side might
wrench me free from damp and achy thoughts…
Something outside not far off, advances.
It presses through the dusty panes. “Whoo,
Who- Hoo- Ho-ooo” rising. And falling…
It nudges, repeats, trails off… as if awaiting
response. It’s been a dozen years since the evening
I strolled along the patchy banks of a rivulet
where he flew – gliding – above my head.
In that first fail swoop – he signed and invited –
establishing an immediate, unlikely friendship.
Many say that Owls are Wise. Have any yet dared
tell of their secretive social wiles? Aha! ‘Tis now
my turn to speak through this shapeless vale,
crafted and cared for by the Maker and Giver
of such dear - such precious gifts.
He, who sealed my heart allows its surrender.
“Good Night. Good Owl. Good Night.”
Written by Hannah De Lisser