Sunday, July 24, 2011

NIght/ daily poem

The long summer nights want to
hold me, loosened wings
in the cooling air. Standing
between grass and trees, I
 resist such comfort.

I want something, I
don't know what.
I walk down into the tree
shadows, colder still and look up to
a great horned owl flying,
 flawlessly tilting through twisted,
 high branches.

I want to be that, 
luminous light;  seconds of
poured out measures
of day sun and twilight
on the owls'
smooth feathered wings.

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