On Waking to Hear an Owl

Photo by Joshua J. Cotten on Unsplash

What wakes me in the middle
of my dreams
as the still hours of darkness
seem to swell

in metered silence
and sotto voce screams
begging the question:
can all be well?

Outside the naked trees
crack their bones
like old men
dispirited and tired.

On the wind comes
the hooting and the moans
of a Great Horned Owl,
amorous and wild.

The owl’s call splits the night
with such longing,
spilling its soul like sprouted seed
‘till morning.