The Evening Falls

The evening falls.
Bird calls
Gradually fade.
The woodland glade
Resounds to the owl’s cry.

I sigh
And read on.
Another day has gone.
And now tis poetry
And me.

(The birds of the day are, to my mind, very different from the owl. As day ends, the night bird resumes his throne, and the birds of the day are silent until the morrow).

7 thoughts on “The Evening Falls

  1. ivor20

    I adored your poem Kevin, and you’ve inspired me to write a piece.
    Morning birds sing, but do not see
    By day, he looks like a tree
    A lonely Tawny Frog-mouth Owl
    By night you hear wisdom howl


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