OWLS
It is 2:45 am and the world seems quiet and peaceful until you hear that old hoot owl calling out in the darkness.
You’re not there, but you can feel those blazing eyes following you with every footpath sound it hears.
The hooty hoot in the predawn is telling others, you better stay your distance because you’re treading on my domain. I own this tree in the holler.
The only sound pierces the air, yet softly comforts this old woman’s ears.
Perhaps that’s why I feel akin to the feathered nocturnal friend, he cannot find solace in the night either.
Good morning and goodnight.
