The Owl
By DD

The Owl sits in the darkness
Dark velvet her mantle
Warm in her nature
To see what daylings can not

Through the dark midnight
Her soul is warm
But her nature harsh
Imprisoned in those wings

It is the fear of seperation
The fear of losing all
That moves her slight and warm
To follow natures call

The owl knows the secret
Of what lies in the night
Scientists can prove this
But they cannot read the spirit

The hoot that reaches into night
is not a ghostly call
for that voice is her voice of love
The soothing caring call.

An ode to Circe

Mistress Of Desire
Your Form Holds My Wants And Dreams
Powers Locked In Fingers Soft


Eyes To Drown Humanity In.
Freedom Of Grace and Freedom of Will
Through Love Denied
New Form Created


Bow Deep and Low
Subservient To Her Womb
Which Gives Rebirth
To Those Who Would


Circe Hear Me Now
Hear My Desire
Hear My Call
Give Me Nature To Live Within

And Without....