The Quiet of An Owl’s Wing, February
By onemorething
- 1572 reads
It begins with the quiet
of an owl's wing, mist muffled,
of river breath hushed
upon frostfangs and
cold, a climbing ivy.
Ask April to lend a word
or two, circles of light,
stars to burn in the darkness,
when the blush of Spring
is in the distance, a ship sailed
on bluster and waves of snowdrop
and crocus. Masts of daffodils still
on horizon, pursued by clans
of swallows, the nightingale, the cuckoo -
apostles returning - remembered in tendon
and bone, all this is heart-pressed,
all this is known.
Painting is from here: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Owl-Flying-against-a-Moonlit-Sky.jpg
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Comments
"upon frostfangs and cold, a
"upon frostfangs and cold, a climbing ivy.." Beautifully done, of course :)
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You managed this with a
You managed this with a migraine? That is an achievement!
Beautiful hopeful poem - it's good to think about these things. Daffodil masts here still little green stumps (and that's being optimistic), but yes, looking forward to sun, warmth and all they'll bring. Sometimes it's hard to remember them
Hope the migraine vanishes soon
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It begins with the quiet
It begins with the quiet
of an owl's wing, mist muffled,
of river breath hushed
this is so magical. Perfect. I like the timeless feel of the rhyme of bone and known, and the cast of birds waiting in the wings :0)
I had a crappy headache last night. Maybe it's weather? Defintely could not have written anything, how on Earth you battle through not sleeping and migraines to make such masterpieces!!!
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Beautiful poem. Spring just
Beautiful poem. Spring just around the corner.
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