A chorus of owls fills the night
So frequent I feel close to cracking the coded information
In their fluted hoots
They’re hunting
As the moon cracks the clouds
They launch
Usually for nothing
This time I hear a faint yelp
The owls quiet down
The owls are not what they seem
The snowys have moved in from the mainland
Crowding the barred and the screech
Tonight they all seem to be on the hunt
For fresh meat
Tonight
The owls are not what they seem
David Trudel © 2012
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Lovely poem!
Have you had a look at my blog…Seen anything that interests you?
Thanks! I love the photographs on your site. Haven’t delved into everything but really liked “Lost”.
Gave me chills, this did. Well done.
Thanks Susan. The owls were giving me the chills and and keeping me awake last night.