Mid-October. Click to enlarge. |
By twilight and owlcall
we fell asleep on the porch,
side by side.
When we awoke
it was this life,
smelling of wet dog.
Rural in Nature, Transcendental in Temperament
In fall's woodland mosaic,
Disoriented.
It's not that we're lost,
Just quiet, nothing to say.
The owl spoke for us.
We were about to
Say something like a windrush,
And then we didn't.
Trying not to be
Afraid explains everything.
Call out to someone.
—a cento with lines from the collected poems (1975-1997) of James Galvin