[Image from Animals Adda]
“Blue tits,” said he, “are nesting
there, just there you see.”
She looked and saw but rust,
what once was metal and now –
apparently – a home, a nursery
for common little birds who flit
to and fro amidst the daily life
of Man. “Ah, okay,” she replied softly, walking on.
“And there,” he continued; she paused
and turned back round. “I’ve seen there
a barn owl, ghost of night, soaring
and dipping, a pale shadow in flight.”
She nodded. “Yes, yes, our usual visitor.” (Though
at that moment the appellation “host” did not suit her.)
“I see,” he said quietly. “Good evening then.”
“Good evening.” They smiled each to each,
went in to their own abodes and switched on lights:
two illuminated windows shining out
into the night-darkened fields before them.
Lullaby of both houses was that barn owl’s hiss.
[Copyright © N R Nolan 2016]