The beauty of barn owls reflected in poignant words.



Too young to be wise within
the great old barn Homer built
to hold dry-land hay before the bales—

pulleys and rail, tall mangers either side
for teams of horseflesh, wooden floor
tourist cameras never see.

From the rafters of rough-cut fir
the world is small, the only light
leaks under eaves.

Cost too great to restore my dreams
of slower days and longer nights,
I wonder—wherein wisdom reigns.

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