Stuffed Owl

In silence I climb confusing stairs

Prolonged words harass me

Thoughts thaw awake

Stake a broken path.

Darkness surrounds the question

Task my owl:

In which old year did laughter die?

I listen to a forest clock of crickets

Watch opposite windows between branches

That divide the moon's luminous view.

My wise old owl

My bleak austerity

Hoots across the silence.