Owl time


Tiptoeing in and out of the dark,

I, sometimes a lark

sometimes the bark

of a red rabid dog,

with fog in my eyes,

mud to the thighs,

wade through the night.

Silent the flight

of the wandering owl,

howling the wolf on the hill,

and the dawn seems so far away.

Will ever bright day

return with the light,

or will endless night

rise with a dark sun?


Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

7 thoughts on “Owl time”

  1. Another GORGEOUS combination my friend. I think it’s physically impossible for me to ever tire of the way you arrange your poetry. I could never stop wanting to read what you write. For any author that is surely the absolute best achievement.

    1. It’s certainly a tremendous compliment! Maybe it’s the same for poetry as it is for music. We don’t all hear the same things in a piece of music, some people hear beauty, others boredom, others noise. Not everyone hears the same things in a string of words.

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