The Owl's Poem
Hoot Hoot

The Owl's Poem

I flip, I flap, I flop

And on the ground, I hop

For though I try and try,

I cannot learn to fly.

Dejected, lost, alone,

I sit upon my throne

Of dirt and leaves and grass

As the clouds above me pass.

And as I sit, I think

Of the world upon its brink

As it turns around and round,

Keeping things tied to the ground.

It is then I look up high,

I blink in wonder, then I sigh,

For I see the moon shine bright

And so I hoot into the night.

Oh, how I wish to fly!

But I try and try and try,

And though I try some more

I just fall onto the floor.

And with a saddened “Hoot!”

I curl up amidst the soot,

Given up on life with flying,

It feels as though I were a-dying…

~*~

Hands pick me up, I feel

Within my heart, concealed,

A bit of faith, a ray of hope

To help me learn and cope.

For my Pack has helped me see

That the fault lies not in me,

Nor with the skies or star

That I had cursed at from afar.

But within the method used,

And my own faith that I abused

That made me fail before

And fall dejected to the floor.

With the belief of Pack in me,

I stand up proud to see:

If my own strength is not as tough,

Then Pack together is enough.

With courage bold, I stretch my wings

And to the ground I am falling,

But I hear my Packmates whisper love

And my spirit soars to the sky above.

Then I look around me, and behold!

The sky!  So free when all is told,

I feel the earth, the moon, the air,

And far below, the ground is there.

I'm free!  I flit, I float, I fly!

My course unseen across the sky,

For Pack has shown me what I've got—

The power to see what I, alone, could not.

~*~