Self-Portrait as Hoot Owl
Who do you think I am, what will
grace serve, where in this moonless
void might you lie, can we echo
through the hours and never attach
ourselves to one discernable tree?
Is query my only song? Is sadness
yours? Wrapped around these
priceless silhouettes, our voices
merge downhill near the creek’s
rustle, below the seeping clouds
and stars yet somehow above the
night and tomorrow’s slow ascent
into more questions, more doubt.
* * *
“Self-Portrait as Hoot Owl” first appeared in Issue 125 of Right Hand Pointing. Thank you to editors Dale Wisely, Laura M. Kaminski, F. John Sharp and José Angel Araguz for taking this piece.
below the seeping clouds
and stars yet somehow above the
night and tomorrow’s slow ascent
into more questions, more doubt.
Wow. ❤
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I seem to spend more and more time in that ascent!
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Short and powerful. Always a pleasure, Robert.
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Thank you, Tre! 🙂
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You are very much welcome!
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This is wonderful!
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Thank you, Sarah!
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I love this portrait of you! Your queries are life-affirming. May every answer you come by beget more questions!
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The questions keep coming!
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Perhaps the owl is considered wise precisely because all it offers is question upon question upon … endless … Great title to this poem.Your poetry generates questions within this reader (thank you!)
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I have so few answers, and those I find lead to more questions!
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Some poems render me speechless, and this is one of them. I can’t say enough how beautiful I found this.
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Thanks very much! You have made my day!
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Great, making your day makes my day.
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😊
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❤️ 💔 ❤️
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🙂
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I absolutely love it!!
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Thank you!
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