For years now I haven’t done sketches, convinced that I could not draw sufficiently well I stuck to only drawing what I knew. Houses were the thing which came more easily to me, but recently along with stepping outside my comfort zone I felt compelled to draw an owl just after I wrote this poem.
The owl flew past in full stealth mode,
As we walked along the road.
And just as I had time to say,
He’d landed there and spied his prey.
His wingspan wide, his body white,
He glided off into the night,
And once again since it was dark,
Upon the woods, he made his mark.
Touched by his magic then he was gone,
He never stays around too long.
A reminder that the woods are not mine,
Whilst sharing with me a moment in time,
I looked there again but he’d flown away,
Wishing that for longer he’d stay.
Oh beautiful owl with feathers so white,
No need to worry and take flight.
Perhaps returning to the farm.
Where you’re again safe from harm.
I’m glad that you felt safe to just be,
While he was walking along with me.
I hope that you found a plentiful store,
And we will see you again once more.
Followed your flight across the ridge,
Across the fields towards the bridge.