Leaning out an upstairs window
the house empty in my wake
Pale blue islands of snow
on dark fields
in weak moonlight
The call of an owl
hollows the world
great-horned by its five
Wilding the slopes as they drop
into the deep night
where the creek rushes with thaw
black gleaming and muscular
So like a dream
I am unsure
then again
with a chill
Where has everyone gone?
