Virginia Wesche
Beneath the High Owl Moon
Sara K. Fleagle

Find me beneath the high owl moon.
When the fog is thick as soup
my doppelganger is birthed
from the milky ice.

Find me in your dream-sleep.
Follow the snowy road and
I will slink into your arms again.
Won’t I?

You never know if it is me
or my false twin.
You are deceived
until the pain sets in.

I’m sorry, Dearest.
Just sleep and find me.
Dream and I will be there again
beneath the high owl moon.

Tonight I feel the trickster’s far away.