I hear a single soft and sad sigh outside
There is a pause–
in which there is a wait for an answer.
Then again, a single “Who”,
that is both a statement and a question.
as if to express the resigned thought, “Where is everyone?”
It is 5:30 in the morning;
it is dark, quiet … and still.
One last time, the call.
I go out and respond.
But either no one is there,
or I have been discounted.
.
A moment of piercing silence, contemplative & peaceful…
LikeLike
There is something to be said for being up when no one else is!
LikeLike
Owls are said to be wise creatures. I’ve answered them too, though not in New Mexico. But they seem to be indifferent about answering people who are not their kind of people. When speaking with owls it probably pays to keep, as you do in this poem, an extremely humble, self-ware attitude. In my book, Salt Bear, one of the most important characters is a Snow Owl who has found himself in the Four Corners area of the Southwest, a long, long way from home. Sometimes I feel a current between the way you imagine and the way I imagine, Russ L. This is a wonderous poem.
LikeLike