Wide-eyed on edge
Of red-tiled roof,
The studious looking owl
May not make out much
In the late morning light,
But one thing seems clear:
These nesting early birds strafing it
Till it vanishes have done their homework well,
And can now return to that brooding business
They so instinctively and abruptly left behind—
It’s as if they knew
Wisdom rests not in taking in
What rears its head before us,
But what to make of what
Nests in the empty space
Once that knowledge takes wing
And flies away.
