Ian Bowen


Night Owl - Poem by Ian Bowen

The village now sleeps
amid the shadows
of moonlight lit trees.
A feather from a night owl
flutters and falls,
and not even those
that sleep on the edge,
stir from their dreams.

Something
that can only be described
as being between
a wind and a breeze,
blows a wisp of smoke
from the chimney
of the insomniac.

He shifts in his seat
and thinks to himself...

that it sounded
like the feather
of a night owl falling.


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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Poem Edited: Monday, February 8, 2010


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