Who Has Answer for the Owl?


Sometimes I wake up hungry,

Though never am I starved.

Room might be rather chilly,

But within my heart is heat

To push away North wind.

Even though I wake up tired,

Am thankful for the rest last night.


Last night before I slept,

Heard distant whistle of a train,

Slowly going up a hill

Against November wind—

Followed by cry of solitary owl ,

Sounding melancholy in the dark.


It seemed the world tonight

Held no merry note, only pain and fear.

Looking out my window,

I saw blood upon the streets;

Dam was breached and there was

Stagnant water now poisoning the trees,

Flowing down rivers, killing all the fish.


Tonight there is only lonely cry of the owl.

“Who? Who? Who?” Who will speak

For others now laying under stars?

Who will answer knock upon the door,

Provide a place to rest within the inn?

Who will speak for those now hungry,

Cold and tired—as sometimes I have been?

And all I hear is the voice of a solitary bird

Crying in the wind: “Who? Who? Who?”



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