Sitting in the quiet,
contemplating the nothingness that surrounds me.
Imaging a different world,
one with color, with fragrance, tasting, touching.
An oil painting for the one I love.
I see the greens, yellows, oranges, and reds of autumn.
An old farm road, slightly overgrown, bending gently with the breeze, contouring an old barn, faded wood, peeling paint.
The character of a grandfather with aged wisdom.
A Great Horned Owl sings in the distance,
a soulful melody that echoes across the nearby lake.
It repeats at a slightly higher pitch.
A pause, an answer – this one lower and softer.
The synchrony begins as they call, urgency growing.
Powerful yellow eyes take flight and the couple unites,
the tone softens, is warm, in harmony, complete . . .
Photos: A Midwestern sunset on the fly – one-handed, while driving with the cell phone. And a Great Horned Owl sits majestically, the master of this territory, calling to its mate.