When clouds block
the low hanging
sun
and the North Star
is too dim to
see
suddenly the owl
captures the
whole sky
with his
golden flight
his white
moon face
his sailing wings
an arrow
cloth
he glides
and flaps
and though you
had not
meant to
Stop
in between
day and
night
you do.
In a flash
of white
you understand
your place.
Inky Cat's Poems 