Night OwlNight Owl
Late, lonely evenings I sit and read; wide eyed, I watch the words scurry by. Outstretched talons clutch at concepts and grasp for knowledge, but the elusive, dimly perceived wisdom scampers away in the vast, dark forest of prose and poetry.
I wish I could fly with the soft, silent wings of intuition and pounce on the desperately sought prey. Then the hunt would end. Then the hungry soul of the night owl would be satisfied.
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