Trees

There’s an owl,
just outside my window,
in the trees.
Her claws firmly fastened onto a branch;
moonlight reflects thro’ her feathers.

Should I be so bold,
to ask her to rest upon my arm?
Would I dare?

There’s a street corner
I can stand on
Shout
And over-react,
As the headlights reach thro’ the darkness.

I can think of a few things to say.