The White Owl

The white owl flies nightly, soaring gossimer and lightly, soaring silently and softly as he glides on invisible tides of air. When the sun rises to the misty morn he is gone, but we know that on tomorrow's night sky again he's borne. We see him not, but belive not that he is any less there, gliding on the air when and where we cannot see him. Yet we are forever without him.


Index | Next -->