where the gravity’s silent…

Original pencil, type & ink drawing, available in my Etsy shop: UnderAVintageSky

A flicker, sensed more than seen.

 

No sound, no storm she foretells today.

White night owl, moon-ray above the hedge

Circles, tail chased by the night,

Lofts, dodging the evening,

Hangs, catching the scent.

Or is it the scurry of a heart beating fast?

The floating feather of light,

blots out the night.

In this indigo woven blanket of eventide

The weary day feeders hunker down and doze

Above she glides, feathers fanning the air

Above she gazes, eyes examining the ground.

Down!

Down!

Down she dives, an explosion of silence

A flurry of hastily expelled air.

Up!

Up!

Up she leaps, now done with violence

Aloft in the night sky, an absence

A white hole, where the gravity’s silent

White night owl, a light in the darkness.

hare she leaps…

In the night

In the night we leap, lope and love

In the creaky, misty, care-worn spouse of the day we lay

Lay low and listen, quivering lines

seeking the man’s tread, the whisper of an owl

brock wander, grey shadow sideways bound

there’s a silence hanging heavy, dew not yet formed

rasp of grooming kitten fur, vixen starts and growls

hare she leaps,

hare she stands

hare she listens

In the morn

in the morn we hide, heal and home

In the dewy, promising night’s lovers entrance

we scratch a form and lie and rest.

Brock he sleeps also, vixen she dreams of the open coop

an engine coughs to life and she starts, tasting the oil as it

drifts down the lane to where she coils the legs that spring

hare she wakes

hare she speeds

hare she races

In the spring,

In the spring, we bound, bond and box!

In Eostre’s waking dawn, mother of the harvest

We box, hare she stands, hare he stands

and we box

Until the day she says,

“leveret come to me, come to my form and be

a hare, the spirit of the fields

leveret she comes

leveret she comes

In the night…