There Was No Screeching Owl There At All Poem by Colin Breck Boardman

There was no screeching owl there at all,
No blood red moon nor comet in the sky,
No presage of the change that would befall,
No portent that my dreams would from me fly;

Yet as the kite upon the wind took up its loving strain,
In reaching to its highest point at which to peak,
A sudden gust did tear its twine in twain,
To float off all bereft for me to seek.

Then too, my happy falcon on that day,
Upon her distant flight did stay her course,
Seeming not to turn nor notice my dismay,
All desperate below and screaming hoarse.

Though it didn't auger well, at least they didn't spurn,
Since my wayward messengers were gratefully return'd,
But still these omens now appear to cast their awful spells,
Whose ominously fatal falls upon my spirit dwells.

(CBB Sept 2011)