This poem was written about the extraordinary events that took place on the night our mother died.

Owls held a special significance

For our mother.

She loved the barn owls that lived

In the buildings round our house,

The screech owls that called

From the lime trees,

The little owls that clung tenaciously

To the phone wires.

Just before she died

The owls started hooting.

They came from everywhere,

Many of them,

Calling her home.

And since then,

People we know have commented,

“What is it with the owls?

They’re calling more often

And at unusual times during the day.”

And we, her family,

Have noticed, in turn,

That it is always those friends

Our mother did not have the chance

To say goodbye to

Before she died.