The Grand Old Owl

The grand and mighty old owl

King of the birds all

After day hiding in mighty oaks tall

When shades of eve begin to fall

Thru skies swinging

He begins wandering

First climbing
Then swooping

Finally liting
His repertoire then repeating
His plumage blending
With night skies darkening
 Softly his cry begins

Then increases in tempo

The night air filling

His mighty song now a cresando
If only you could go
Where I have been
And see the sights I have seen
Here I AM
Mighty King of the night skies

I am to all exclaiming

©  Milancie Adams 2011

Hammock Corridors (™)