Friday, February 18, 2011

These Are The Nights to Remember

The nights where the sky hangs low and pitch white,
Feet dragging on the ground,
For they have been too active for hours.
The storms have since ceased,
But the movements,
They continue in contrast to the starkness,
The darkness of the barn owl
Flying just over head--
Never truly flapping his wings,
But instead allowing the sky move across his back for him.

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