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.

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