Many owls hoot around this house.
It goes on at full length the night.
Broken record hoots on a treadmill,
stirring sheets, I'm up at one window,
then another. Dog ugh's his dismay,
not with the owls, with me.

I ugh back.

Certainly, I'd prefer somnolence
as well. So roll over Rover, this
infectious restlessness has gone
epidemic. Now coyotes are cackling.
The ever out there is in here, again.

I begin my jotting in the one thumbed
way of our present day. Thank a
saturation of stars for our modern
cellular contraptions. We can all now
fiddle away the night and not disturb
our precious pet's rest.

Timeliness of nature and creative
spiritual awakenings align.
Sometimes.