Kingdom of Things Unseen

Have you ever felt the haunting echo of a Great Horned Owl’s call pulse through your bones in the dead of night?

If not, I urge you: wander out alone into some forgotten wood at dusk and pitch your tent at the feet of the old and twisted pines. Try to keep warm with a feather-filled coat as you stoke your feeble fire. Lie shivering on the forest floor, tangled in frayed scraps of memories, drifting into restless sleep as Night’s gaping maw yawns to swallow you whole with your loneliness.

Suddenly you wake, startled by the stab of a too-close cry:

WHOOOO

A cry, an alarm, no–
a question:

WHO?

Who interrupts my nighttime hunt, my moonless dance, my silent stealth?

Who dares enter my realm, my terra incognita, my cryptic fortress of retreat?

Who?

Who are you
When you’re all alone
Beneath the star-dusted dark
In this kingdom of things unseen
Perched on high and watching
With their eyes and talons and wings?

Who?
Who?
Who?

Graphite on cotton paper
12″x18″