Owl

This morning I was up before dawn and could hear the hoot of an owl in the tree outside my window. It reminded me of this poem I wrote a few years ago:


Insomnia
On winter nights I lie awake while the
Moon shines through the window
And the hoot owl beckons me
To join him.
I consider it,
Then pull the covers tight
Against the cold.
In spring I'm tempted
To join the Whippoorwill
In the meadow on his
All night vigil.
Then I hear the coyotes'
Howl echo from the hollow
Where the creek runs cold,
And reconsider.
I listen to the
Metallic whine of the cicadas
On hot summer nights
And watch as the night breeze
Billows the curtains back and forth
Above my head while
The leak stains on the ceiling
Metamorphose into shapes and animations.
In autumn, close toHalloweeen, the wind blows
Brittle leaves upon my window;
A premonition of the
Winter chill.
And as the house creaks
Against the wind's coercion
I wonder if sleep will ever come again.
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