i knew it was coming: the lethargy and malaise, the viral reluctance to address the post-it notes defining the next task in my quest to bring order from chaos.
chaos isn’t that bad.
it is my friend.
last night, after the winds had left and night had returned to familiarity i sat, waiting for the owls to move. they did so immediately. for a while. then they stopped. then they began again.
i felt like a strigidaen yo-yo.
thirty-two owls later, with the moon casting cheesy shadows in my patch of the boreal forest oak savannah, i had tasted enough. it is still early in the season and i must pace myself…like running a marathon, even though i have no idea why people would want to do that.
run, that is. sometimes i wonder why people would want to owl.