Poetic Journal Year 166 B.E.

166.59* Quills of the owl

Quills of the owl

         for Quill o' the Owl

Looming by owl-flight,
they tan by the waxing moon
when it's one quarter full,
seek the gloom of pine shadows.

Old coots
that don't give two hoots
watch in owl-silence
while white quills of cotton,
slick with moon-screen,
hunt supermarkets.

At midnight,
wings haunt empty swings in the park
where in the deepest of dark
we hear their owl-cries.

Come the New Moon,
feathers gather to worship,
a soft blather of sighs,
in a moot of owl-eyes
looking straight through us.


© Kåre Enga [166.59] 2009-05-15