Today's poem is by Joyce Sutphen

The Owl
       

I hear it for a while before I hear it—
that is, before I realize I'm hearing

a bird call from deep in the woods behind
the house across the street. It's an owl—

a barred owl—I guess, making the familiar
"Who cooks for you, who cooks for you all" call.

If I could see her, I'd see her head swivel
a half-circle just before she leans in

and pushes out that cry—one more time—I've
just finished reading Brecht's question about

the dark times and the answer: "Yes, there will
be singing. About the dark times." Why do

these somewhat bitter words make me smile?
Why do I lift my head, shake my hair free,

and leap to my feet, clapping my hands together?

Tweet

Copyright © 2024 Joyce Sutphen All rights reserved
from That Other Life
Carnegie Mellon University Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission