OWLS

The owls in the Banyan tree

Look down with nodding head

And winking eye upon this strange

And silent gathering of souls.

Surveying our tribe they speak

And fly from limb to neighbouring limb.

Chattering, the three of them

In wonderment at such a crowd

Meeting as the sun awakes

Over the golden dome and then

Lights up the leaves and human hearts.

Our concentration done they fly

Into their hollows and crevices

Sleeping through the waking day

Safe within their sacred home

And much as we who meet in love

Find rest and ultimately peace.