wl flies with all the grace of eating mice and barfing bones. Owls fly with the Susurration of the elite, with inhuman shadows as context. Yourshadow casts a smell: you don't pass unnoticed. Your average owl goes beyond average, and is upbeat and diurnal. You have nightmares of clownish pause. Still, some owls seep into night with death sounds. Or poems, who's to say? The calls vary, sometimes mournful, sometimes screechy, as delicately human as that. Owls notably look in windows and their heads spin wickedly. They see shadows move like shadows. They enjoy shades of air and silence, quicker than any bunny. Stratum interweave and conveyances differ. The owl scouts with nerve endings and quiet abeying. They live in trees full as mansions. Their sighs fund elegiac plenty and spree, with Bo Diddley beat assembling.
It begins with a scanning of light, a settlement of words. The lightly fracture of Bird sound begins in the office of seeing. Not sentiment but sense, as cool as Green in the Early days. Pasture resists nonpasture, no one Refers to none. All remains including nothing. Morning Is belief and there simply there. Tides go freshly to the point.
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