POETRY: The Owl in My Attic

There’s an owl in my attic

But it only comes at night

Its wings flap loudly above me

Squeezing through a space real tight

I think it comes in through the roof

In a hole that I should patch

It perches on the wooden beams

And I hear its talons scratch

I wonder if there’s a mouse up there

A perfect owl snack

Guess it’s not bad to have him

Since it’s mouse traps that I lack

Sometimes I hear him sound a ‘hoo’

Sometimes twice in a row

I’m starting to like my owl friend

I don’t want him to go

Tonight I went up to the attic

To be a gracious host

I heard the ‘hoos’ but didn’t see him

Could it have been a ghost?

“Hello, Mr. Owl? Are you there?”

I asked into the night

“Get out!” a voice yelled back at me

And I fell back with a fright

As I tumbled down the ladder

I listened to the angry spirit

It’s not a friendly owl then

But a voice that begs to fear it

“No, you get out!” I shouted back

And the attic began to creak

Then suddenly its door shut tight

And inside I heard a shriek

The wind began to whip outside

I heard the sound of glass breaking

The lone window in the attic shattered

And the sound left my ears aching

“Get out!” I repeated back to the voice

When suddenly a silence fell

The wind began to calm back down

And the door opened up as well

I tiptoed my way back up the ladder

Peeked my head above the open space

I expected to see a ghost up there

And finally meet him face to face

But the attic was empty after all

So I laughed, and then I grinned

I climbed up to mend the broken window

When an owl flew right in