At dusk

a pink moon

low over the sheds

in a cold clear sky -

ice blue, yet light

hiding stars

a leaf fall

the pond water stills

but does not freeze

Much later

that same moon

lights my bedroom

in the cold night air -

velvet black, the sky

glints stars

an owl flash

my blood chills

but does not freeze

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Night.

I am transported by

a narrow orange moon

                and a million stars

                the still cool air

                the silence of the yard

I am welcomed by

a single ghostly owl swoop

                over the sheep fields

                the creak of my gate

                the scratch of my key on the lock

then

the silent click...

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In the grey cloudlight of a pre-dawn moon

something stayed my dream

a stray insistent noise heard through sleep

the uncertain call of the hunting owl:

I am knelt naked at the window -

beneath, the frosted grass glimmers in the pale creamglow

hazy through the early swirls of mist

but not a shade or waft disturbs the spectral scene

although my flesh seems chilled by some slig...

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