He was facing the other way—his back to me.
Silently he peered beyond where my eyes couldn't see.
Higher and higher,
I beckoned him this way, quietly.
I gave up too quickly, perhaps.
He wasn't looking at me,
But I knew he sensed my stare.
For as soon as I circled round
Just a few moments later,
He was gone from his high-in-the-sky perch—
That old gnarly tree in the swamp.
And I immediately felt—
Too little too late—
That I had wasted a perfectly good acquaintance.
My one chance to speak with the owl one on one,
Gone.
