The Questioning owl

There was an owl that lived in the woods.

It had creamy white feathers and big brown eyes,

All day long he stood on the branch of an old oak tree,

Dreaming away…

 

The tree changed its colors,

through spring, winter and summer.

In autumn it was splendid,

in autumn it was its best,

thought the owl with the creamy white feathers,

And the big brown eyes,

As it dreamed upon, its branchy bed.

“I wish I could sing,” thought the owl

“I wish I could serenade,

I wish I could do more than just hoot

I wish I wish I could.”

“When the entire world awakens all I do is sleep

Why do I feel so incomplete?

The moon is my best friend,

and the stars they light my night,

but why don’t I feel like dancing .

in the wonderful sunlight.”

“Why am I so different,

and why do I crave mice?

Why don’t I like berries

and all things that are nice?”

Asked the owl to the universe,

as he drooled a bit upon his feathers,

the world and its weirdness,

they were all his transgressors.

“Oh well,” he thought I will wait for the night,

I will ask the moon,she will understand my plight.”

When the night came and the owl had brushed and cleaned,

his white feathers like ivory they gleamed,

his eyes were not a drooping ,he felt so alive!

Then up came the moon in all her silvery light,

“Hello my fine friend,she smiled

“You ask too many questions.

While questioning is good, don’t so question your life!

You’re all things good and all things that’s right,

don’t you know my friend,

you’re the king of the night?”

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