John Stetson Poet Couplet

Night Owl

The owls are back, they talk in the night
I try to discern their language of flight

There's much there to learn if I could interpret
But my mind is earthbound, much as I might work it

Some feathers sing and some cry out loud
But the owls are selective, they don't like a crowd

They talk to each other in a voice I would capture 
If I could but learn the language of raptor

Still my mind is earthbound and lacking insight
I admire and ponder this language of flight

I've never seen them, my vision is dim
They leave me, believe me, out on a limb

The dogs complain, they don't like them much
But their visit is short and then back to their clutch

There's a rabbit that lives here, under the shed
But he's keeping quiet, and keeping his head

The black cat is blending somewhere in the night
He knows his survival depends on his sight

And I lie bedridden, depending on sleep
My flight not so fancy as that of the sweep

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