Restless Night Poem by Noellissa Swaby

The owl hoots at the moon light,
Or is it really hooting at the sun,
So it may return,
For the nights cold winds to be done.

Is it calling to the sun?
So it may come and render its heat,
So the owl may rest in its comfort,
As its warmth massage his feet.

Nocturnal or nostalgic?
And this we think we know,
But the owl he stays awake
And awaits the crest of the sunlight's glow

He longs for the sun to remind him,
How it feels to rest without fear
For he knows that shadows dissipate at sunlight,
And leaves a serenity; that can compare.

But for now, he rotates his head three sixty,
At the fear of shadows lurching behind him,
Vigilant is he this restless night
Praying that his oppressors never find him.