The Serious Moonlight
It’s just a trick
the owl plays
to fool the ears
of evening prey—
it finds a branch
not too far off,
then calls, first loud,
and then calls soft,
an illusion.
I have no will
to dupe your heart—
to linger close
but play I’m far.
No, I just want
to be where you are
and be caught
in the ravishing moonlight.