to the owl on my street

You are always asking,

“ Who? ”

Who do you want to know?
Me?
Who am I?
I am small,
I have long hair,
I have green eyes,
I have a pretty ring
around my finger and I live
in that attic
up there

...with whom, you may ask?
With a man 
who has hazel eyes
and a great laugh
and a deep voice
and a hunger
for a living we are always
working for
searching for
Maybe we’ll find it
one day

“ Who ? ”

I hear your call again
as I blow a puff of frosty air
and walk
along this uneven sidewalk
in the night

“ Who ? ”

Who do you want to know?
Who made you?
Goodness,
I want to know that too!
Is this maker real?
Good?
Crazy?
Full of artistry and magic?
Full of thoughts of things like you:
your feathers,
your eyes,
your hunger
and your wistful 
“who...?”

“ Who ? ”

Who is your next meal?

Who is your mate?

Who
will catch a glimpse of you
haunting the night air?

“ Who ? ”

I want to know “who” too
Who
are you
?
Are you magic?
Are you mystery?
Are you brown or white?
Are you young,
are you old?
Are you happy?

I am turning toward my home now
You can always know that here
There is someone watching for you

You know who

One thought on “to the owl on my street

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