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The Owl

Published onDec 09, 2024
The Owl
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The Owl

The river and its aisle of oaks, each new leaf
tipped with the fires of the sun.
The red canoe. And at moonrise

a thin stream of smoke
in pencil-sketch branches
as a fish in the distance
leaps toward the idea of joy.

          *     *

Look – in the sky
above the shallows
an owl is unfolding her body, wing

by elaborate wing, a simple moment
which now, in memory, seems like 
the text of a prayer.

          *     *

The tin cup. The moon’s white ashes.
And once again 

ambition, wearing its muddy boots.
I could have, I should have…
Your hands on my shoulders like rain.

Vol. 27, no. 1, 1998

Tim Applegate’s poetry and short fiction have appeared in The Florida Review, The South Dakota Review, and Lake Effect, among many other journals and anthologies. He is the author of the poetry collections At the End of Day and Blueprints, the chapbook Drydock (and other poems), and the crime novels Fever Tree and Flamingo Lane. Tim recently relocated to southern Indiana where he is working on his next novel and a new chapbook of poems. You can find Tim online at www.timapplegate.net.
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