Hidden trees

for the Tawny Owls

Where the wind keeps
the trees hidden
in the grasses
and the people walk
the thick lines
of the horizons
in their eyes
you'll sing
the seal song,
forget the festivals
and wrap the blanket
of your solid soul around
your softened body

No people staring at you,
I promise
No language but
bird language
third eye contact
clouds' rain rumours

No real people dying
in real gutters
Hardly people really

Tides not times
to play with.