Poems

Find and share the perfect poems.

The Owl

Arthur Sze

1950 –

The path was purple in the dusk.

I saw an owl, perched,

on a branch.

And when the owl stirred, a fine dust

fell from its wings. I was

silent then. And felt

the owl quaver. And at dawn, waking,

the path was green in the

May light.

Arthur Sze is the author of eleven books of poetry, including The Glass Constellation (Copper Canyon Press, 2021). He served as a Chancellor of the Academy of American Poets from 2012 to 2017.

Occasion

Themes

Sign up for Poem-a-Day

More by this poet

Here

Here a snail on a wet leaf shivers and dreams of spring.

Here a green iris in December.

Here the topaz light of the sky.

Here one stops hearing a twig break and listens for deer.

Here the art of the ventriloquist.

Here the obsession of a kleptomaniac to steal red pushpins.

Here the art of the alibi.

Here one walks into an abandoned farmhouse and hears a

tarantella.

Here one dreamed a bear claw and died.

Here a humpback whale leaped out of the ocean.

Here

Arthur Sze

1998

The Shapes of Leaves

Ginkgo, cottonwood, pin oak, sweet gum, tulip tree:
our emotions resemble leaves and alive
to their shapes we are nourished.

Have you felt the expanse and contours of grief
along the edges of a big Norway maple?
Have you winced at the orange flare

Arthur Sze

1998

Zunis make shrines on the way to a lake where I emerge and Miwoks gather me out of pools along the Pacific the cheetah thirsts for me and when you sprinkle me on rib eye you have no idea how I balance silence with thunder in crystal you dream of butterfly hunting in Madagascar spelunking through caves echoing with dripping stalactites and you don’t see how I yearn to shimmer an orange aurora against flame look at me in your hand in Egypt I scrubbe

Arthur Sze

2021

Poems

Page submenu block

The Owl

More by this poet

Here

The Shapes of Leaves

Salt Song

Newsletter Sign Up