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White owl | Max Sewell

. . .
Which wings do you wear; 
In the ebony night, 
With which wings do you soar 
on the ivory white, 
Upon which feathers do you glide, 
in the golden sunlight, 
With what beak do you preen, 
With the weight of the unseen, 
Which eye do you scry in the enveloped wild, 
Which talon do you sharpen, 
Which call do you hark on 
Colour of crest, 
Span of your breast, 
wing-tip To tail tip, 
just where do you nest
With a gaze ever widened, 
And with wings ever heightened 
The world is enlightened 
And with this knowing you rest

. . .