Night Owl

When the sun sets,

Escaping from the blinding light,

The muse rises

Up through my soul.

My eye's grow round

And their pupils expand.

My spirit takes flight

Searching and finding -

Expression.

Ideas run rampant

In the shadows.

My mental talons grab at them

To be devoured.

Then regurgitated

In little pellets of words.

The skeletal remains

Of nebulous stories.