The famous sound that comes in summer, <br />the chorus that comes with each morn, <br /> <br />not where your hear this calling, welcoming the stars in all nights form, <br />a bird though it is, owns a call that is loudest heard, <br />for no other song by beak is sung as is this raptorial birds, <br /> <br />so unchallenged the hooting and twooing are eerily in dark heard, <br /> <br />of the stealth winged owl calling, <br /> not shown to our eyes but by ears heard, <br /> <br />a song not for days calling, <br />but solo sung to the even black, <br /> <br /> draped in the silver shimmers of night, <br />from oaks confidently unknowingly sat. <br /> <br />showing her wisdom come dawn, <br />when the tweets to the east signal daylight, <br /> <br />unique in her wisdom, not like majority, <br />and on eastern blush, <br />takes to roost on her silent wing, <br />and waits for the quit of the dusk<br /><br />Edward Webb<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-owls-wisdom/
