Owl Poem by Charl JF Cilliers
Owl
The owl stoops on its branch.
Its eyes close
and open at the first shape
of a sound. Starlight steers,
and feathers cloak, its flight:
the soft shock of the kill
comes out of the muffled night.
Thursday, October 15, 2015
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8/28/2026 10:54:09 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
