The Owl

The birds twittering in the trees suddenly stopped,
the brilliant eyes of the town suddenly dimmed,
all at once the trees heaved their last deep sighs,
the grasses shook their heads –
night fell.

Out into the night shone two alert eyes,
waiting, watching.
Nothing stirred over the vast hillside.
He turned to the west –
all was quiet.

The silent stranger saw with pleasure
the last light suddenly flicker out.
Now was the time for him to start
out on his nocturnal quest –
darkness reigned.

Away he went over the meadows,
slowly, silently,
to the barn where even the rats slept.
This was his destination –
what’s afoot?

Minutes later the stranger reappeared,
sailed gracefully back to the tree.
As another star began to shine –
the owl had flown.

Written in my book of poems I wrote when I was 16

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