High in a tree, the snow owl sat.
She was looking over the landscape for her meal, a rat.


The scene below was one of snow and slippery slopes,
But the snow owl had eyes that would deify the lens of most telescopes.


There were babies to be fed, and her keen eyes would comb the vast snowscape below.
Down she would swoop scooping up dinner and fly away with it in tow.


"Out to lunch", I guess you could call it that.
However, it was more of a survival combat.


She would never bail out on her brood and motherly duties no matter how fierce the weather might be.
She was the provider and a good one by genetic decree.


Snowy feathers kept the babies warm as she nestled down over them in her nest.
They were warm and fed thanks to their Mom who did her best.


On a lower branch of the tree hung a pair of argyle socks with a colorful diamond pattern of red and black,
But the bird had no interest in them as she turned her back.

© By Phyllis Ann (Starbird55@comcast.net)

Snow Owl

A Snow Owl sat upon the limb
Tom took a picture on a whim
The Owl hooted a warning to him


The ground was so slippery
Tom took a tumble said, "Woe is me."
The Owl hooted laughingly


Snow got into his argyle socks
Old Tom sat there eyed by a fox
Owl and fox Old Tom they did mocks


Tom cried, "Come bail me out."
His wife said, "You need not shout."
Tom sat there and began to pout


"Come help me Dear there is a bear."
"And please bring a comb for my hair."
She laughed because his head was bare


Poor bald Tom could not arise
He sat in the snow which wasn't wise
"Hurry Dear before I dies."


So she came and pulled him free
He was thankful as could be
It was the funniest sight one could see

© By Sharon (ByGolly25@aol.com)

Falling Owls

Snow fell into my eyes,
I was looking for Santa’ sleigh,
An invisible snow owl shuffled snow,
And fell right down in the hay.


The branches melted to be quite slick,
Slippery to even owls,
There I sat in the snow covered hay alone,
And let out a series of yells.


The snow began to freeze in my hair,
I pulled from my pocket a comb,
Combing the strands did freeze straight up,
Like a porcupine flaunting aplomb.


I want to bail out of here,
So hungry for hot soup am I,
But the owl and I stuck hypothermic,
Nothing we could do but hoot and cry.


Starting to grow sleepy as frozen folks do,
I dreamed I was out to lunch,
Cornish hens served on a bed of rice,
My owl was chewing on mice.


Everyone in the chandelier ball room
Wore many colored argyle socks,
That’s when the handsome ME stood by,
When I learned that falling owls rock.

© By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)

Who, who, who I heard,
I shuttered in disbelief,
caught again I thought
as I spotted an old snow owl.


Hung over and trying to walk
on the slippery road
heck old owl, you are older than I,
who, who to you, I replied.


Made it to the creek,
it was all froze over.
Saw a new long comb,
Bent over to pick it up
and fell in.


Made it across the creek,
I saw the reverend Ben,
shook his head and waved a finger,
“out to lunch still, you poor sinner.”
I just waved my hand and grinned.


The old rev had bailed me out
many a time in the past decade.
Shook my head and yelled to him,
“Watch the bridge, I fell in.”


Got home and sat down,
took off my shoes at the door,
I sat shivering and shaking,
the wife screamed loudly,
“Your new argyle socks.”


I scrubbed the floor and the kitchen,
on my hands and knees, had no breakfast.
Then outside I had to go,
take a shower under the bower.


Maybe one day, who knows,
I will smarten up and
walk the straight and narrow,
but oh the humiliation I would lose.

© By Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)