By Victoria Krylova, Nonfiction Editor
While the world is asleep,
Dreaming of busy days
In the crystal night,
An owl hides.
Quiet, the moon’s finger stroking its wings,
Lost deep in thought,
Half-watching the scampering shadows below,
Smarter than the world knows.
Friend of the misty night,
Sleep will come—
But later, much later;
For the owl, darkness is life.
