A Small Audience Poem by Patrick Czyz

O luminous night, how little I see of thee.
When in joyous shines, the jays dance
Atop clouds, their wings themselves rainbowed
Over the greens and blues that once held their nests-
Flittering now to mornin's tune, sung for all the sky
And chorused with daylight.
What of the owl? how now-
Perched on lowly oak branches
His pale orbs filled with moonlight rays
Seeks his muse, cratered and worn,
This angel of white, lofty and aglow
To whom he cranes his neck and prepares
A song echoed with the shadow of the earth.