Coming Home At Twilight

Coming down the trail at twilight,
I am perilously close to
being stranded in darkness.
Earlier I had figured
I could ski the loop
before it got dark.
I was wrong.
But I know where I am,
and in the dwindling light
I see the trail, and the trail
will bring me home.

It is snowing hard.
When I stop, the only sound in the forest
is snow falling on snow.
About to push off
and begin the long downhill run
back to the logging road,
I hear just above my head
a sound like the comforter
being moved as my wife turns in her sleep.
I look up and see a huge snowy owl,
wings wide spread,
gliding down the same trail,
staying below the branches,
occasionally pumping huge wings
to navigate around a tree.
My eyes follow the owl down the glide path
until he disappears in the twilight and snow.

I am left alone in the growing darkness,
hearing again only the sound of snow,
wondering if the owl is going home, too.

by Ken Nye

Comments (1)

very descriptive..try short stories as well as poems