DOWN in the valley, one by one
Windows flower with light.
Past altering, day’s work is done;
Men’s dreams unfold toward night.
Evening dark is raw and chill,
Breath steams on the air;
A white moon soars over the hill,
Silence is everywhere.
There on a silver branch of maple,
The owl with burning eye
Commands a field of grass and stubble
Under the moonlit sky.
A sudden drop on silent wing;
Silent the helpless die,
Betrayed by dead leaves whispering,
By the moon full sail on high.
Down in the valley, window-muted,
The voice of a radio:
Peace discussed, rights disputed,
Then to deep slumber go
Elder and younger, dog and bird
With dreams of peace, while still
The owl, sharp-billed and saber-spurred,
Patrols the midnight hill.