20 October 2012
The sky is alive, With brilliant spots, Stare straight across, At the million dots.
Flying formations, Two to eleven, Another tight loop, Of a trio, then seven.
Hunting in pairs, Their eyes all too sharp, Their sounds syncopated, Like the beat of a harp.
Singing their lyrics, Whilst roaming the sky, Searching for prey, With that envious sigh.
Creatures of dusk, And the earliest morning, They'll be gone soon enough, Soon as sun is dawning.
Gone to their hovels, To curl up and rest, Nothing but sleep then; Soft rise of a chest.
Owls. • Opuss № I