Barred Owl Yawp Video


Patricia Clark

Before the dark-eyed owl came, flying 

toward me, I was going to quit for the day. 


It flew, a bird of many feathers, I stayed, 


and before the dog roused, with its bark and bite, 

I sank down feelers into sandy soil, 


I planted footings, one on every corner, 


enough to be level, balanced, and still 

portable. I could be moved, I could be 


nomad, and for the first time in four or 


five years, I sensed a breathing on my own, 

a careless way of throwing down sweater, scarf, 


bracelet or book, this moment for swooping deep 


into silence, carried on a magical chair— 

to a space rarely visited, newly found, 


where thought is a lush country, fragrant, wide.

More Poems:

Aubade in Which I Awaken


Acts of Light

Want to get published?