A Owl's Hoot

For Marianne

It only took one look
away from her book,
with her cat in her lap,
for Time to take a nap,

Dust in the chimney held still
neither going up or down of its own will,
forever being the ire of firemen,
loosening the world to pyremen,

Norwegians held in the balance crossing a fjord
were surely taken on an adventure to the Lord,
never knowing if they'd be around for cookies
or to place bets with their bookies,

And, there's no telling how many kittens up in trees
were waiting for rescues from the breeze
that now may never come
leaving them stuck like gum,

But, at a simple owl's hoot
Time awoke wearing slippers, looking for its loot,
now ripe as an apple, hands moved
and feet grooved.
                                                                                            (c)  Poetic Pete 2005

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