Random Acts of Poetry

Who Are You?

Who goes there? calls the owl.
Who walks in the darkest hour
whose waking hours ought to be day
whose footsteps are sure to scare away
the mouse that is my rightful prey?

Who invades my midnight world
who walks beneath these branches gnarled
whose presence disturbs my feathered head
who dares these forest floors to tread
when he should be at home in bed?

I own this world of blackest night
that my wings sweep o'er in silent flight
in which my ears find without fail
each tiny foot or swinging tail.
Who are you?, the owl said.
Go back home and go to bed.



Written for "PromptMaster !" 

Prompmaster!

Prize Prompt:
The thing an owl would explain to you at midnight.