Return Flight

Frost contouring the muntin,
Blurring the outside world,
I know more than just autumn’s set in,
As from my chair I begin to uncurl…

I rise up, listless,
Setting my feet upon the floor —
It’s as cold as Cocytus,
But a greater cold I’ve long endured;
The talks yet to prove themselves fructuous,
Of rendezvous’ and candlelit dinners —
All the things I would’ve done with gust,
Because the girl I so perfectly adored —
Reverie broken like a sorceress’ curse,
I continue that which I’d started up for.

Cryptic cold coaxes me into quickening my pace,
To the room whose warmth entreated its touch upon my face;
I retire thereto, hoping for a reprieve,
One of which came only momentarily —
At least till I saw the velvet drapery,
Coil her beauty with a Victorian, timeless grace.

Alighting the window sill,
She made her way closer to me,
Flickering that beautiful smile,
That seemed to moderate the degrees —
It had all the makings of a dead “deferral”,
Whose ghost inhered to some oneiric futurity,
Though, as much as I wanted it to be real,
I knew it was all just a reverie.

The room’s warmth evanescing,
Its entreaty proven spurious,
I yearn for something more genuine,
Less likely to renege on its promise —
Something I believe to comprise her being,
Few others in this life possess,
That has me, in my cold existence, pining,
For the plenary warmth of her kiss.

Teary-eyed, I turn towards the skies,
Now cloaked in its crepuscular guise,
Hoping for a tear in the violet still,
So that I may feel the unparalleled,
Love of God’s eternal will —
Tonight…I want — need…to feel alive.

Around that time, there came a knock upon my door,
At first, barely audible,
But eminently growing stronger,
Like the charging of an incited bull…
Though Night discouraged an answer,
I started thereto, all the while being careful,
For I knew not whom — what, at this hour,
Could be entreating entrance with such gall.

The knocking continued with no cessation,
As I continued forward in that direction —
And the closer I got, the more the knocking intensified —
The heaviness of which belied…
The size of the owl tittuping outside! —
Oh, how I marveled at this revelation!

I was, indeed, enthralled,
By this odd occurrence —
How could something so small,
Cause so great a disturbance? —
How this fearless, freckled,
Foolhardy fowl finagled such finesse,
I wondered whether it could be possible,
And the owl answered…”Yes.”

Though not mistaken in what I’d just heard,
I couldn’t believe the sheer fact he answered;
First, impressive with Antaean feats,
Now with ostensible gift of speech,
His spectacle makes it hard for me to breathe —
What, exactly, is the origin of this bird?

I cogitated the possibilities,
For he’s obviously not of this land;
Does he make his home amongst the Furies,
Or amidst the angels in Heaven? —
Did he form from spume like Aphrodite,
Some beautiful creature of mystic origin? —
Perhaps he’s part of some coterie,
That keeps qui vive till the break of dawn —
If so, bird, where is thy brethren?

Standing there like an ordinary creature,
He gave to me nary answer;
All he did was hop and hoot,
The cool wind massaging his downy thews —
Assuming it was all a ruse,
I started to close my door…when the owl said,
“Don’t go, for I’ve come to take you to her.”

All the while flabbergasted,
I followed him nonetheless,
Unto where the air was frigid,
Yet scented with a familiar fragrance —
I could feel myself growing pallid,
For I knew what lay ahead in the distance:
That which some men call kismet,
Mine is the girl…through whom beauty has its genesis.

That fragrance proved itself a Rosetta stone,
And I knew I was more than halfway home,
As I slashed through the night undaunted,
With the gust of a spirit just freed from bondage,
Running with neither care nor regret,
To a place long frequented —
In dreams — I can finally claim as my own…

My gracious guide stopped to address me,
Perching himself upon my shoulder —
“There stands the quintessence of sublimity,
As beautiful now as ever before;
Her bona fides are a fait accompli,
And everything she does, she does con amore —
No longer is it a pipe dream;
Yours to hold is one of the world’s greatest wonders.”

Thereafter speaking that oracle,
He rose up, encircled me deasil,
And, in bidding me farewell, faded into the firmament,
Leaving me more than content,
In the arms of she who is, too, Heaven-sent;
Whose life is incandescent and love is eternal.

- Kevin B. Waring