If you wait enough

to hear behind all

of the sun splotchy leaves

and small chirpy birds

you can hear the call

from the patient owl.

Contrasted to some

careless, fleeting wings,

seemingly magical,

the owl hoots unseen

In voice box octaves

a song of flesh strings

dubbing smooth rattles,

throaty, mystic and strong;

light recedes with owls’

vocal retrograde.


2 thoughts on “Owl

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