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.
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.