Did the Owl Call My Name?
Four years ago, upon the closing of the world for COVID, this little event happened and inspired this poem.
photo by Jim Williams
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He started calling from a distant tree
Yearning for another of his kind
Two short hoots and two long notes in time
To some primeval lonely rhyme.
The Native warning quickly came to mind
Owl will call your name before you die.
I pushed away that ancient belief
My humor will not let it take its hold.
The virus spreads so fast around the world
a killer of the weakened and the old.
Suddenly, his song grew louder still
just beyond my door in deepened tones.
His throaty baritone did surely call to me
My fears then changed to anger at his moans.
I ventured then outside into the storm
Its silent chill sinking in my bones
Earnest snowflakes fluttered 'round my head
I searched the trees to seek his dour form.
I hooted back to challenge his reply
I will not die nor live my life in dread.
He paused his serenade a single time
Then answered as I called him once again
Persistent pleading through this darkest night
That hid the desert stars and waning moon
That only days ago was full and bright
Continued through the hours until morn.
I will not let this virus trim my days
Nor cast its shadow on my daily chores
I'll turn my mind to think of what is real
The actual purpose of his haunting wails
The owl can sing his lonesome song again
Because I know he only sings for love.