To Whoooom it May Concern

I see you move silently through the trees

never touching branches or getting tangled

In swaying vines, as I move silently through

dark rooms never stepping on the bits and

pieces of a family’s life once strewn across

the floor. You are probably hunting – for a meal

or some furry morsel in the open fields,

to satisfy your hunger

I am also hunting – standing in front of

the open fridge, looking for some leftover

or piece of pie that will assuage my sadness.

I hear your call and another answers, so

I know you are not alone in the darkness,

and when I call softly there is no reply –

for now, my nest is empty.

With love from a fellow night owl

Poetics:For the love of letters