The ravens have been gathering and dissipating
In the contrary direction of which they’ve always taken

The rooster has been calling out tirelessly in the night
The bats will not relinquish their own torrential plight

The hummingbirds have joined thusly in with their delusion
And the song birds are singing in the dark, within the same confusion

The eagles are sitting in the sky
In the very the dead of night
And screaming out the most disconcerting, unnatural of sighs

But most peculiar and unnerving of them all
Is how the owl has suddenly altered it’s ever steady call-
Being seen in the middle of the day
Conveying vague riddles, which remain that way

Perchance something of this November light
Simply is not sitting quite right
For what would account such unnatural behavior
Save for a recountance which just isn’t clear

And today my owl is not so wise at all
As I once had thought
It’s mournful, chilling gaze descending
Now upon me, all for naught

Or perhaps it’s simply the one from the bad German fairytales
Here to tear out the eyes
Of a wandering, foolish girl

Lost in the forest, for the very first and last time-
“You ought not to have followed as all the others who will have gone behind,”
It said, haunting and sorrowful
But it’s gaze no longer holding the same compelling pull

And in this very dead lock stare
A tiny little bird flew up and rested near
And relayed the first song
In a time much too long                                            To make any sense
Striving to speaking the unknown
Of divine providence


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