owl for the morning

owl for the morning

whilst the twilight
still sleeps
in shivering dreams,
the beat of wings
flutters through the cold trees,
branches at slumber.

and you call
from just beneath
a horned moon,
and like a dropped coin
the sound rings
within.

in the quiet part
of me,
that has not
been abandoned.

i am still.

a frozen picture
trying to unpick
the darkness,
to catch
even an eyelash glimmer
of your majestic
movement,
through a sky of no light.

through a sky of no light.