The Owl

The owl perches on the tree, you body fills with slightest glee.
His eyes stare down at you, gleaming yellow.
You reach your hand out, it feels like jello.
To your surprise, he flies down low and lands upon your shoulder so.
His wingspan big, his heart so small but filled with so much love for all.
He spots some mice and grabs them tight and puts them in his nest for the night.
He soars up into the air and floats up there looking down at your hair.
“Come down!” you say looking his way.
He flaps his wing as if to say, “so long!”
You wave your hand but you were wrong. You hear a peep and kind of cheap and a baby chick pops our of the nest.
Then he comes to rest upon a vest, you notice was hanging from a branch facing towards the west.
“Hoot, hoot” they call out into the moonlight.
You stay there for the rest of the night, clutching yourself tight.