Owls at Night

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Sunday. Worse than any other day.
Why God couldn’t stop on day six, I will never understand.

Sunday, the day of homework and staying in.
Grocery shopping with Mom, getting up early to go to Church,
finding myself stuck in the lull. Quiet.
Up too early to do anything productive,
I cannot climb back into bed...it is too cold.
Sunday Night. I have more homework than could ever be finished in 6 hours.
I’ve always been able to work better under pressure anyway.
The stars come out from hiding in their dull-day rooms to shine,
what a terrible waste—someone should enjoy them.

Monday Morning.
The rhythmic ticking of the clock shatters at the sound of a toilet flushing,









water sshshing it’s way down the pipes.
I finally go to bed, tripping in darkness, shivering under the icy grip of the covers
until I curl in on myself.

Of all the birds, owls have it the easiest.
They are selfish, only catching prey to eat for themselves and their young
before retreating back into the wood.
Birds of more unimpressive size must wake up, set about feeding themselves, the babies,



and then waking up the general population.
The busyness, it’s just like the average human, flitting about tasks, even if they are meaningless.

But the owls are ignored, no matter how late they stay up.
I don’t bother to set the alarm; if I do, it won’t go off. Explore my options, the endless To Do List.
I will keep playing the easy role tomorrow, the owl who doesn’t leave the nest.





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