Thursday, May 22, 2008

To Owl Town

The following is a book-length poem I found in my attic today. I wrote and illustrated it in fourth grade, though I only remember the illustrating part. Whether I wrote it or not, I am now taking credit for it.



To Owl Town


I walked to the old oak tree
where the wise old owl lives.

I asked him:

Where does the black night go?

He said:

To where the trees point
at the end of the forest
to the end of it all
to Owl Town.

I looked straight in his big bright eyes.
He told me:

Fly there.
Soar over the tall trees
Find the moon past the smell of the flowers.
You'll find those big bright eyes.

So I went.

They watched me and I asked:

How long have you been here?
And what do you eat in Owl Town?

The old gray owl spoke.
He said:

Here before the moon
we drink the morning dew,
eat skunk stew,
and save gophers for dessert.

They told me:

Stay.

I flew with them
sat with them
ate food with them
and sang songs with them.

At dusk
I grew wings
I soared over the moon
I flew over the tall trees
I flew to the rushing waters

I ruffled my feathers
I heard the upcoming storm
I saw the darkening clouds
and smelled rain in the air

I stretched out my wings
and caught the wind with them

The wind carried me far
to the east

They taught me owl songs
evening watch-the-moon songs
hunting mice songs
that only owls sing
and only owls hear

With my big bright eyes
I found delicious mice
saw stars fly by
Watched a quick fish swim
when I passed by

I was cold in the night breezes
I was comfortable in the high tree
and the little ones leaned on me
as they slept

One snuggled close and asked:

Where does the black night go?

I said:

at the end of the forest
to where the trees point
to houses filled with the people
I love

I said:

I miss them
I want to fly back through the night
to the tops of the cliffs

Towards the smell of good food
where I'll find
those curious human eyes

And I flew
through the forest
to where the trees point
past the smell of the pine
back to good food
and my family

To grow legs again
to grow arms again
to see the old wise owl
in his tree again
who holds memories
of Owl Town.

1 comments:

Skoticus said...

Andy, you're a natural poet. That is all rather sophisticated for a fourth grader.

The Word Verification word I have to type in is Braor. That sounds like something from Tolkien, maybe.