The Owl

Wisdom is far
from me; I have
closed my curtains and
drawn the blinds and
an owl call and some
low slow music and
a cup of tea are
all that is left
to me in the silence
of the night.

This cream room is
a peaceful place, square
and warm-hearted it
takes me in and
cradles me
temporarily

and the owl
keeps me company
outside in his
lonely vigil of the
night
foraging.

I am fit for
nothing now my
impoverishing
bites my bones and
gnaws my spirit done:
I am alone
in a large wide world
and
cannot stand my own
tragedy my own
company but the

owl, the owl he hoots at me
slowly from the
dark and silent trees.
Collected Works
Return to Collections all
next poem