|Owls at the hour of moonset
and the daughters of owls,
visit my dreams that fly in and out
lace drapes that have no substance,
filigree perceived at edge of sight,
lit by moonbeams.
nightmares to others,
my companions in these latter days.
On wings of wind they hear my pain,
visit to learn my Name, to know
when the time has come to speak it.
On whispers they flit. Lacelike dreams.
My hour of moonset draws them nigh.
13 august 2004.
Catalogue number: [161.447]
Note: written after watching a Canadian movie placed in the rural native coastal region of British Columbia, where a priest with terminal illness has gone to live and decided to stay past death. In "The owl speaks my name" the owl brings the news of impending death.
© Copyright 2005 Kåre Enga in Montana (UN: enga at Writing.Com).
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