no. not the one outside my window,
high in a tree somewhere,
hoot hoot hooting the night away.

but the hoot owl shift, the one late at night.
the shift of work, of love, that I live.

during sun hours, don’t talk to me,
don’t speak to you.

but during the night,
when the stars and moon flicker about,
darling that’s win our spirits come out.

talking all night, sleep during the day.
maybe I’m a hoot owl, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.