Waiting on the Owl 

The Great Blue Heron
Was disinclined to idle chatter
And took flight before I could say hello

I meandered into the field
Where three bat houses
Span two twenty-foot-tall poles
No more out of place
Than the humming solar array
Encased by an 8’ fence

Content in the late October sun
I hoped the resident owl would join me

I wanted to know their thoughts
On what we bipeds had done to Turtle Island

While I waited
I busied myself sketching a flower
That grew tall but also flopped upon the ground
Stretching out in all directions

The sun began to slip behind the trees
Resigned, I gathered my belongings
And sauntered home