The Owl In Its Tree! Poem by Vinayak Kesarwani

Taking in the sights,
In the dead of the night,
When only the fireflies did burn bright,
Our dear owl peered down the height.
Of his dear dwelling, his tree,
Which had been his abode since he became free.
From the confines of his egg's shell,
Away which fell,
And out hopped the owl, stepping over them.

Lovingly he looked at the plant's stem,
Which only last solstice, the north winds planted.
The flowers aren't pretty, he granted,
But the wondorous smell which it spreads,
Made the owl smell like a gone bad piece of bread.

He threw a glance at his friend the bat,
Who hanging upside down from the adjacent tree
Was grinning like a cheshire cat.
He reminisced of their friendship,
Born out of the hardship
Of being the oddballs of their respective home tree.
They had formed a bond so deep, firm and true.
That no matter what, he thoughtNo trouble between them could ever brew.

Suddenly, Zeus' bolt went awry,
And came to an end the owl's story.
For the misdirected bolt, hit the owl's home,
Burn it to a crisp and left a roasted owl for the world to behold.