I was really influenced by Auden’s poetry last week and was inspired to write a poem of my own that I wish to share with the blog.
In a steeple, somewhere soft,
are two owls hooting heart-faces
at the silver moon. Hooting young
hopes at falling stars to wish
the wild world upon them soon.
Two white owls barely two
feet tall eager to blast
through doughy clouds.
Beneath Heaven’s lamps and
above the sea, they fly between
the world, and the world of dreams.
They circle the skies, and then
the globe, conquering the air
the night has traveled. Until they
see the snow below, the frozen
truths of the land unraveled.
The barren Earth with icy lakes,
naked trees, their leaves knocked off.
Tiny mice buried beneath the dead
debris, pale faced and lost.
Their eyes well black, and they
return, mourning the mice on top
their loft. They curse with hoots
the cruel game on Earth. Hooting
two white chests and two tan coats.
Hooting two heart-faces and the
short time between death and birth.