A moment of consequence
when would the day become brave?
when secrets no longer carry non-expiration dates?
when words become sour but reek putrid of honesty
and the tongues in us with courage find parity?
when will the lilacs finally reveal their scent
like a bird at night that tires from a day of pretend?
when will the owl open its eyes to the stark day
and the raven find a yellow dawn at indigo starlit bays?
when the tides have retired, will they never again bask?
nowhere is where the way falls by fire-steeled tracks.
when will the bells sound by the man on the moon
and on a plank of sharks, I can with blood festoon?
Owl and Crow -- Caitlin Hackett