Eyes of great wisdom, within their golden glare,
Feathered wings beat silently throughout the midnight air.
Talons, so long, so black, so sharp,
Tear through prey easily, leaving their wicked mark.
As the night wanes, the hunt, a victory,
This midnight creature returns to his home in the hollow of a tree.
Staring out into the starry night,
His eyes slowly scan over everything in sight.
The field of grass, swaying with the wind,
The glimmer of the moonlit lake, chilled once again.
The crickets beginning to chirp, the birds beginning to sing,
The songs of the morning’s approach as well as their early summer fling.
The sun begins to break through the dusk, bringing forth another day.
The owl’s eyes grow heavy as he begins to sway,
Bedding down for sleep, till the night steals the light away…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.