The path was purple in the dusk.
I saw an owl, perched,
on a branch.

And when the owl stirred, a fine dust
fell from its wings. I was
silent then. And felt

the owl quaver. And at dawn, waking,
the path was green in the
May light.

Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 404 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Arthur Sze
Poem: The Owl
Volume: The Redshifting Web: Poems 1970-1998
Year: Published/Written in 1998
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