An owl cries, flies
in the deep night, flight
lifting her great wings, sings
to the stars nocturnal, choral
calling to the new moon, attuned
to earth’s cycling seasons, reasons
for listening, reflecting, changing.
Just some ramblings - a little poetry, some Creative Non-fiction, a picture of two - from Lake Hebron as I sit here on the front porch, staring across the water, listening to the loons, and enjoying the life of a retired English teacher. And please, leave me a comment, a note, tell me how much you loved -- or hated -- my writing, what it made you think of, made you feel, for it is poetry, meant to invoke in you what it is we share in common, what it is that makes us human.
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