Monday, May 2, 2016


Screech Owl

You weren’t fooled
One minute
Late last night
By calls to love

Issued from my
Audubon app
Wise to calibrations

Chuffed Mild Annoyance
From head turning
Cries of Alarm 
Nor were you deceived

In the least by Stan Getz
Filtered soft and sweet
Through the screen door
You saw right through

My Italian sandals
To piebald Midwestern
Eggs doused with catsup 

Playing Lennie
In a local
Production of
Of Mice and Men

A dream
That died hard
Perhaps you were
Momentarily flummoxed

By discrepancies 
In my vitae
Errors of omission
You may rest assured

Can be explained
By the light of
A Hunters Moon, though
You weren’t taken in

By the band of angels
Descended to bear
Me home on
Gossamer wings

Gazing skyward
In silent reproach
My receding
Grin betraying

Certainty you’d fallen  
For the one about
The Romanov heiress who
But for want of your

Banking particulars
Would cut you
In for a half share
Of Faberge eggs

Failing to notice
The speckled clutch
You guard with
Murderous tenacity 

No rube, no turnip
From a turnip
Cart, no bigger
Than a pint jar

I’m content to listen
From the shadows
Finger running
The rim of a glass

Last night certain
Yours was the forlorn
Cry of a loon.   

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