The candle flickers silent as night
as an owl hoots at the dark.
Launching into flight from on high,
poised to strike at its mark.
From the window the flame shines
shredding shadows to and fro,
attracting the moths and fireflies
to bathe in the soft light glow.
The owl shrieks as it strikes
and the candle continues to shine.
I sit, watch and marvel at the show,
lost in the spectacle for hours of time.
For hours of time.
(15/07/23)
I had the title of this poem in my notebook for over a year before the words came to me. Odd, as usually I write a poem and the title comes out of that!