The Peeking Owl
Staring at me from behind a pine tree,
Asked me “Who?” I was, as a gray owl should.
I responded quickly, “Why, I’m just me!”
He blinked just once, as if considering
What he should day, then he simply asked, “Who?”
So, I stood still a moment, pondering:
What more I could say, what more should I do?
I said, “I’m a writer,” and spoke my name.
He nodded just once, and then he asked, “Who?”
By now I was growing tired of this game,
And said, “I’ve nothing more to say to you,
Except: nevermore to a bird of prey!”
He made a rude noise and he flew away.
Mick McKellar
March 2016
Conversations with owls tend to be one-sided affairs; more like an interrogation than a conversation.
Mick
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