Owl Light Poem by William F Dougherty
Owl Light
The mole catacombed under dripping roots,
gnawing grubs like clustered shrimp, pulpy white
dangling in gloom. In the oak, patient hoots
practiced the dark; tiny hands tunneled and scooped
processions of mounds: a breach of lunar light
the owl distinguished from his drift and swooped,
spread grasping hooks, honed keen as his sight,
and yanked the mole's squeal from under a dune,
ascending with his prey in silhouetted flight
up the talcum motes of a taloned moon.
[Attn: J.Hogg / 'Broken Moon' is honey and wax (delight and wisdom) . I have a hunch your prevarication is sanctioned in 'Arcadia' and Avon, where 'best poetry is most feigning.' #
WfD, Hi, At least your Owl is still on an even keel and keeping to the course set for it by its nature! This is tightly focussed and vibrantly alive, and I find myself with a surprising amount of sympathy for the murderous owl. You've somehow kept the balance of nature intact. There is much in this that made this reader linger, but the last four lines energetically demand involvement.... and the final line is so good, so musical that I'm sitting here smiling in admiration... sound intuition too, dammit! Regards, jim
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 10:32:26 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Owl Light is the title poem of an early selection published by Wings Press.