Closing Remarks

“Well, listen, then,” the owl said finally,
and thinking he was ready to take his leave,
I rose, but he said nothing further.
After some moments, no little awkward,
I thought to pretend I had risen only
to stretch a bit, scratch this or that,
before settling myself again,
the more comfortably to converse-
Or at least, as he had asked,
to listen.

But the owl offered no further insights
on the subject, or any other.
Perhaps his attention was drawn away
by some rustling too slight or far
for my less keen ears to hear.
Or perhaps his thoughts, though doubtless wise,
were not as easily given voice,
or at least voice I could understand,
as all that. Whatever, I had no wish to offend,
and the night was a pleasant one,
so I kept my own silence, and my place
at the foot of his oak.

The moon rose through the trees to the east.
We watched together in what seemed,
I thought, a most companionable silence.
But then, when the moon shone full, and dispelled
those leafy shadows from which he had spoken,
I saw the owl had gone.

“Well, then,” I said, to no one,
especially, and got up,
and brushed myself off,
and went on.

© Mark Reep 2007