The Owl Cries at the Waxing Gibbous Moon

Don Iannone, Owl Poem, waxing gibbous moon poem

Ghost-white face, hovering
In pitch black darkness
Near perfect circle of light
Slowly climbs Heaven’s dark staircase

All alone, save one distant lonely star
Who watches on
Praying for a mere cricket’s song
Awaiting first signs of daybreak

Through the October trees
She beams yellow-white
A small elbowed branch twitches
Nervous reflection, perhaps the wind

In the distance, the haunting cry of a screech owl
Agitated by the waxing gibbous moon
The fatal bellman rings his bell
Another soul fast a memory

When the Owl Calls Your Name

Death Poem, Don Iannone, Indian Lore, Owl Poem, Spiritual Poetry

The owl was calling last night
Somebody’s name echoed through the dark still forest
I listened for awhile to hear him again
But only silence rang through my ears

When the owl called
My heart shrank with fear
Praying it was not my name
But another’s that he called

Most don’t hear the owl’s call
Until it is their time
Until it is their name
Echoing through the tall dark trees

Those who believe
Say that the owl doesn’t know
Whose name he calls
Only he who bears the name knows

There is no mistaking
When your name is called
We always hear it
Then, it is our time to go