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Poetry

NIGHT WALKING

In the distance I hear an owl and think it to be off at the edge of town in the woods where wild things are supposed to be. Each hoot, hoot, like the street light, spaced just so, calls me around the next corner — Steammill, Tavern, South. The hallowed sound searching through springtime air like the scent from the field of peonies only a block away; like the fog ascending on this river town. Yes, that owl searching for the field mouse who runs from one hiding place to another. I stop, listen, and know the owl is in the cedar that leans over the street, over me. The owl, so close, it desires my own wild heart. —Susan Stark

Posey Magazine May/June 2011  

Posey Magazine is a bi-monthly feature publication on Posey County, Indiana, edited by J. Bruce Baumann. It focuses on the people and geogra...

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