I slept last night like an old barn.
Hay lay in a prolongued way, between green and yellow.
The owl hooted softly.
You appeared in the moonlight,
slatted through the frame, maybe a gun down
by your leg, to stun me to the worried life.
I joined the hoot, that confident ooooo of wait and see.
I waited there, thinking it best
til the moon stopped prying through the boards
and I could be gone upon waking,
the day breaking with no memory
or reason for me to have been, or go.