THE OWL

a poem by Janet Elizabeth Marshall, New Zealand



Late at night when the moon is full
And trees a shadowy form.
When stars are bright and glittering
And indigo adorn.
When tiny creatures wend their way
Through ghostly, murky trail,
And shiver in the shaded gloom,
From nose to tip of tail.
When silence is the order,
In hushed and peaceful calm
To quell the noises of the day,
A sweet assuasive balm.
A silent apparition,
As soundless as the night,
A silent apparition
Of the night time hunters flight.
His wings are soft and soundless,
His eyes observing all,
The feathered feet about to meet
Another creatures fall.
The path of Life continues,
The owl must fill his need,
And tiny creatures of the night
Are welcome fare indeed.

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