Thursday, 27 February 2020

Owls , old souls


  1. The air is crisp and cold ,
    a fresh iceberg lettuce fold
    You can bite into it
    frozen teeth , white
    wispy , clouds of exhalation
    evanescent winter exaltation
    two dark shapes shifting
    In the dark , staring
    Four eyes , almond shaped
    relentlessly following , 
    Your movements, being watched
    Someone wheezily screeched
    You turn and see , head swivelled ,
    looking right at you , unblinking
    Boring their eyes into you 
    For a long moment , you stare back ,
    mesmerised , then a distant bark
    and wings stretch and flutter
    other of the pair , mutter 
    Another warning screech
    and they have flown
    out of my reach
    Into a grey sky , dawn
    A witching hour they say
    when ghouls
    old souls
    prowl and prey 
    Not today .
    I just made friends
    with two acquaintance(s)
    Made my day 
    They live in a hole
    In my outer wall
    With their voices of concern
    mimicking my conscience 
    They fly , plummet
    screech , skyrocket
    all the moves
    all my loves
    As I sit on my porch
    and watch
    Like a dream peddler
    In a wheelchair 
    I sell my dreams
    to the skies
    and watch the realms
    rent asunder with pleas 
    whoops and shrieks
    couple of lovable freaks
    My birds , my owls
    Ghouls , old souls .

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