A Hoot in the Night: The Owl’s Lament

In the quiet of the moonlit night,
Where shadows dance in pale moonlight,
A lone owl perches, wise and old,
His haunting hoots, a tale unfolds.

A feathered phantom, guardian of the night,
With eyes that gleam in the soft moon’s light,
He spreads his wings in silent flight,
A ruler of darkness, a creature of might.

In the solemn woods, he begins to lament,
A hoot that echoes, a woeful event,
A tale of the night, a story to share,
A melody whispered through the midnight air.

“Whoo-oo, whoo-oo,” the mournful cry,
A haunting song to the open sky,
Of shadows cast and secrets kept,
In the stillness of night, where dreams are swept.

He mourns the passing of the day,
Where sunlight fades, and colors gray,
Yet in the darkness, he finds his voice,
A hoot that resonates, a wise owl’s choice.

“Whoo-oo, whoo-oo,” the notes repeat,
A lullaby for the world, so bittersweet,
For in the night, his heart takes flight,
A hoot in the dark, a magical sight.

The owl’s lament, a timeless song,
A melody that carries the night along,
As stars twinkle in the vast expanse,
He hoots his sorrow, a nocturnal dance.

So, in the hush of the midnight air,
Listen closely, if you dare,
To the owl’s lament, a somber call,
A symphony of night, a mystical thrall.