Older Poems from the Pen of Olan L. Smith

Mrs. Owl

Photo by, Olan L. Smith

Mrs. Owl

©2012, Olan L. Smith (edited 2017)

Mother, I cried today because I thought you did not love me.

I sat my tiny frame on the stoop and wailed to whomever,

"Oh, woe is me!" I walked to a nearby pond and sat beside an elm tree,

Tall and large that offered shade. An owl swooped and landed on a bough

Above my head and chimed, "Whooo, whooo are yooou?

Whooo cries beneath my tree so tall and broad?"

Gazing up I spy a hoot owl peering down and answer,

"It is I who is bawling beneath your glowing orbs

Of wisdom." The wind blew warm and dried my tear

And a smile came across my face for I was speaking

To a bird, an unimaginable thought a moment prior.

"My, my..." said wise owl. "I thought you were a spike of cotton

So white is your towhead. Why do you sob so?"

I sniffled and wiped away the last tear and rejoined, "Cause, no one

Loves me that is why I blubber. Not even my mother

Cares a whit about my welfare. She punished me for

Breaking the cookie jar and it was an accident; I swear."

"I see," said the owl. "You still dwell in a nest with those other two

Rascals you call siblings who scramble about to and fro lobbing BB's at me.

I take it you were hungry?"

"Well, not exactly. I wanted one of her chocolate chipped cookies but

I am too short and when I reached up and slid my hand in,

Well, I lost balance and the jar shattered smithereens upon the floor.

It made such a thunderous noise; it scared me. Then my mom hollered at me

And then I cried and now here I am talking to a bird."

"I see, you think your mother doesn't love you because

You broke a jar, and now you think she has driven you nuts

Because you're talking to me, Mrs. Owl. We owls and human care

For our young differently; you do understand little man.

Instead of cookies we regurgitate our last meal and give

It to our chicks. I am afraid I can't afford to feed a child

As large as you and when our young grow feathers we

Kick them out of the nest. It is either fly or die; no cookies you see.

Would you like to trade places with one of my chicks?

I will fly one of mine to your house for your family to rear

And as soon as you grow feathers I will teach you how to fly."

I thought for a second and said, "Nope. I think

I will stick with my Mom and Dad, but thanks for the offer, Mrs. Owl."

She hooted, "Oh, so your mother isn't so bad after all?"

I turn my head back toward home and replied,

"Nope, I think I will be just fine, thank you."

Then the owl said, "Whooo, whooo, whooo is that?"

"It must be my Mom looking for me, where is she?

I can't see her from down here," I replied.

Mrs. Owl answers with a hoot, "Put your head to the wind and walk

Over the hill. She is sitting on a stump and I think she is crying."

"Oh no, I must go to her. See you later Mrs. Owl." I

Turned my head to the wind and scurried up the hill and

Sure enough my mother was sitting on a stump.

I hugged her hard and long and said,

"Mom, I am so sorry I broke the cookie jar. I love you

So much! I was just down by the pond and pondering

Life, that's all. You never guess who I was talking, too."

She said, "You were talking to Mrs. Who."