Owl

‘Too much, too much’
Cries the owl behind my head.
Stopping and starting, a
Whole gathering of owls,
Hooting and squeaking as I play
Spot the branch,
Swiveling my head into the
Dark aroma of night.

I sit back down and that
One, insistent voice
Starts up again behind me.

It seems I
Haven’t yet got the message.