I want an owl inside my heart
to perch, listen, and hoot.
I can be its warm nest;
its soft feathers will comfort me
through the drafty night.
I’m sure the owl has no worries,
rendering sheer glares at the sky.
Thinking about the stars and the moon.
I want to emulate its thoughts
and its rich orange eyes.
I want the moon to see the owl in my heart.
I want to hear its lunar lullabies,
and store them safe in my dreams,
and borrow its silver eyes,
and endow me with a silver heart.
When dawn arises I’ll possess its features.
I’ll walk among the dark trees
gracefully pouring bottles of light to them.
I’ll be their second moon; they’ll have enough light.
When I leave those beautiful green things,
I’ll whistle to the moonlit owl for the most glorious candle.
And build a small table in my head with a velvet cloth
with all the powers I’ve mustered up.
I want to be filled with its wax,
forever burning and never looking back.
11/8/25
