“Town Crier of the Night”


The return of the mourning doves made me think of this poem. I am soothed by their sad mummers and close my eyes to their music.


The Horned Moon shows her pale face

In a lavender-velvet sky.

Beneath critters begin to still,

Find nest or burrow

And settle for the night.

Swallows make sickle-sweeps–

Black crescents

Challenging the moon–

Disappearing into gathering gloom.

Crickets still their bows,

Raucous fiddles laid aside

With only a section

Of orchestra still fiddlin’ in the dark.

Cows mournfully call

To the cow herder—

Full udders,

A day’s labor done,

Now return to the straw

And the peace of the stall.

Bull frogs play bass to crickets
But even they, eyes reflecting
The moon above,
Shift into frog-lullaby
And sing the fish to sleep.

The brook has less babble,

The wind dies away-

The hoot of a Great Horned Owl

Is the town crier tonight.

Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2018



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10 Responses to ““Town Crier of the Night””

  1. moondustwriter Says:

    Jane I always love how alive your poetry is. This is excellent as is your water color.
    Hope all is well in your world ~ Moonie

    Liked by 1 person

  2. kanzensakura Says:

    Gorgeous Jane! I love the owl. You captured its face wonderfully well.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. ladynyo Says:

    Thank you, Toni-Kanzen. The sound of the mourning doves around the feeders made me think of this for a poem. They’ve come back and I have missed them. Tonight, perhaps I will hear a “Town Crier” in the trees around the neighborhood. Fred said we have a large owl, one that was sitting on the apex of the chicken coop. Probably a Barn Owl or a Barred Owl. What ever he/she is, they are welcome. In the urban areas, we are getting more wildlife and that is fine with me. We have taken so much of their habitat. We need to give back. Thank you, Toni, for reading and your comment. I deeply appreciate it.


  4. ladynyo Says:

    Hello Moonie! How wonderful to hear from you! The mourning doves did it for me this morning. I love the little critters. Their Quaker gray coats are sleek and beautiful. I love to hear them mummer in the night before they go to sleep. It’s a signal to me to do the same thing. I’ll come over tomorrow and see what you have been up to. Hugs from here. PS: that owl painting is probably my favorite and one of my earliest. Glad you like it.


  5. ayala Says:


    Liked by 1 person

  6. Frank Hubeny Says:

    Nice description of the pond quieting down and going to sleep for the evening while the owl watches. I like the idea of the frogs singing the fish to sleep.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. ladynyo Says:

    Hi Frank, me too! I like the idea of the frogs singing the fish to sleep. We had (and hopefully again) a bull frog last year that sung us to sleep….neighbor 100’s of feet up the street breeds frogs, and somehow one makes it down the street (hiding in the gutter?) every summer. The dogs go after him, but we have lots of rocks for frogs to hide in. Of course the dogs destroy the pond. Thank you, Frank. These are the memories I want to remember: the pastoral life.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. ladynyo Says:

    Thank you, Ayala.


  9. kim881 Says:

    A musical poem with vivid imagery, Jane. I absolutely love this stanza:
    Swallows make sickle-sweeps–
    Black crescents
    Challenging the moon–
    Disappearing into gathering gloom.


  10. ladynyo Says:

    thanks, Kim. It does have a certain musical quality to it. Thanks for reading and your encouraging comment.

    Liked by 1 person

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