Arriving
to Jim Harrison
We woke, as we often did those mornings,
to a great horned owl whoing down the chimney,
then out with the dogs, found myself
absorbed in a network of late-shift owls
absorbed in a network of late-shift owls
finishing their night’s work, broadcasting
their locations and perhaps their intentions too,
their locations and perhaps their intentions too,
in the mysterious daylight world of the nocturnal.
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