BARRED OWLS

They were back again this morning, telling me to work more on what I had to say about them last time. Here is a rough draft.




BARRED OWLS



Nearly out of earshot
two barred owls
bark in the darkness,
chimpanzee language,
and all of us other animals
stop and listen,
dumbfounded and afraid.

Pulled by the chaff
of their monkey chant
through crepuscular mist,
they land,
all echoes and yak,
in the maple
right outside my window.
My mouth is open.

Their voices,
the next moment,
in the far field
on the other side
of the house,
nearly out of earshot.

And I hear myself
whispering their fearful syllables
into the dimness
of the computer screen,
deflecting my desire
to see them less wild.