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  • I rejoice that there are owls... They represent the stark twilight and
    unsatisfied thoughts which all have.

    ― Henry David Thoreau




    I like to sit alone in the woods at night.
    It is healing to be there, surrounded by sycamores,
    feeling a soft night breeze against my face.
    Always, sooner or later, there are the owls.

    How many? Two? Three? Or just one?
    And they start in, or he starts in, or she starts in
    with the whoo, whoo whoo? whoo?
    There is a distinct rhythm, a searching cry,

    Questions set out against the darkness:
    whoo, …..whoo whoo? whoo?
    And so I answer: whoo, whoo whoo?
    And the cry comes back. A conversation

    Has begun. Back and forth it goes, like a game
    floating between us on the night air.
    A desire to connect, to hear an echo of one’s self.
    Perhaps it is as simple as “Hello. I am over here.”

    And the answering: “Hello. I acknowledge you.”
    And then: “ Now I have moved to the eucalyptus.”
    And then: “Yes. I know that tree.”
    And so it goes. A Hemingway script. Few words.

    And it is night, and there are owls, and we talk.
    And it is good.








    (Photograph by AJN in the 3-D virtual world of Second Life)
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