Moon-owls at Briggflatts



Take a spring night, a filmy sky, a handful of blurry stars.

Daub a papery whiteness around the fell’s flanks;

let this smouldering glow accentuate the identity of the moon;

this mottled moon bursting with mad light.


Take a spring night, an unfurnished tree, a crisp air.

Tint tree-roots and hedgerows a furtive dark;

let the round sounds of three scowling owls

boom and bounce across their baffling, triangular borough.



John Rice


Please note that the poems are copyright John Rice 2014 and cannot be reproduced without the express permission of the author.

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