Intimidated by a Owls Eye
it was a solemn October evening, the kind despicable witches love
I am a white witch, this is not my favorite kind of evening.
From a branch in a high tree I spied a flash of yellow
It was an owl; he had his head turned slightly.
When he blinked I could not see him at all.
When he opened his eye, I felt intimidated
By a sage owl’s concentrated stare
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2024
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