the owls sing
languid in the hot tub
late late at night
the owls sing for me
two mated pairs
high in the neighborhood
oak and redwood
calling to each other
they know I’m there
listening—
companions as I soak and
ponder how things are
their sonorous tones
a haunting music
both intimate and lonely
am I eavesdropping
on a love song?
the state of their world?
are they discussing the hunt?
is it a partnership dance
and I am their witness?
their sentience
sweet company
2022 ©Amrita Skye Blaine
I’m writing a poem a day. These are drafts—they may never turn into anything more or they might flower.
the heart of the matter 
Oh those long ago nights steaming together in your hot tub…. 🥰
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Ahhh, yes—now my hot tub sojourns are alone….
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I love the sound of the owls. I miss them here in the city. We heard them often in the country. Maybe you are hearing the Great Horned Owls hoot hoot hooting back and forth. Something so soothing about that sound. Your poem brought that right back to me. Thanks. XO Sylvia
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Wonderful! Thanks for reading, Sylvia.
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Lovely!
Sent from my iPhone
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Thank you!
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