Evening Poetry, November 18

Here is a poem that I haven’t edited yet. I’m putting it out there because I’ve been having wonderful twilight meanderings the past week or so and wanted to document it in some way.


by Kim Pollack

I startled the owl as I went through the line

of evergreen trees behind the house.

I haven’t heard him since late one September

evening when I stood upstairs in the dark,

with my phone pressed against the bathroom screen,

and recorded his hoots to send to my son.

The air is still and clear, and the cold curls

itself under my coat and against my skin.

I stand facing the westering sun

with its yellow and pink whiskers and wonder

what my kids are having for dinner.

I drink in the quiet, and as I turn,

there is the owl, with his white wings wide,

swooping silently over the orchard and disappearing

high into a Scotch pine. When I reach the orchard,

I visit with the old apple and pear trees.

Placing my palm on a slim gray trunk,

I drink in the rooted reassurance and

let my troubles slide away. I breathe in.

“All is well,” they always say. I thank the trees

for being there and wish them goodnight,

and head toward the love-light of home.

Copyright 2019 by Kim Pollack