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Town Owl

Rating: 2.9

On eves of cold, when slow coal fires,
rooted in basements, burn and branch,
brushing with smoke the city air;
When quartered moons pale in the sky,
and neons glow along the dark
like deadly nightshade on a briar;
Above the muffled traffic then
I hear the owl, and at his note
I shudder in my private chair.
For like an auger he has come

to roost among our crumbling walls,
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
ghytrdf 05 April 2020

i hate you all ok or monkeys, donkeys and dumbo'ssss

0 4 Reply
S Imam 03 June 2006

A haunting and thought-provoking poem.

8 11 Reply