Looking For Owls

When nightfall dips in palest of gold I feel a sense of indignity, As owl's melody loses its eloquence Through the absence of a safe abode; Where quietude calls for avian coos The kind which never seeks to intrude… And its orbed eyes larger than neons, freeze In need of natue's hued, aerial parade--- Startled, bird's forest trail is washed out By mourning dew of poison Denying the barren woods of nourishment while allowing thieves to skin owl feathers, mangled talons like so, wasted --- Wise keeper of secrets, hushing the noise. Life marvels at your nocturnal guardianship yet, this world shares not your moonlit toots lithography of hills no longer owns your delicate interludes of silence... Man ravages bird navel, flesh , and plumes For trading quests, for self- interest --- Can this earthly slaughter cease sucking nectar soil of birds dry? Somehow, I still hail the dwindling number of hooting owls Which believes that the next generations will wander on an environ, Soaring their wings... joyously free at last.