The Owl Poem by Arthur Sze
The Owl
Rating: ★4.5
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.
Monday, January 13, 2003
Topic(s) of this poem: purple,waking,wings
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8/13/2026 8:29:39 PM # rel_20260811T123139Z_a98d49b
