With eyes wide as saucers,
she, the night owl
quiets and considers...
Friend to the frost of the night air,
waits on her perilous perch
secretly spying what scampers below
Hidden in shadowy stillness,
She, wiser than many would guess...
patient under the glowing crescent moon
Sleep will come in awhile...
Later than others choose as timely,
But for her, the darkness has a life all it's own.
She creates a whole jungle, in a sense, with accurate insight into the iniquities of animals.
Fine mood of sage caution and nocturnal moderation in this succinct and well crafter poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
life of its own to catch rats