The Counsel of Owls

An Upturned Soul

Silencio.

.

There are moments when I can sense a certain something trying to communicate with me. This certain something is within me. It is me. But which me is it?

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Last night in the still of darkness, the midnight hour, a screech cut through the silence.

It repeated itself, it wanted to be heard.

It was heard.

A reply came in the form of a gentle ghostly hoot.

The screech repeated.

The hoot replied, then added a new sound to its call, a woo to the hoot. A woo-hoot.

The screech became a squawk. A screech with a squawk.

.

The conversation moved on.

It flew from tree to tree.

First they were close, then afar, then close again, closer still.

A kerfuffling ruffle occurred as they came together,

the sound becoming a screech-woo-squawk-hoot,

conversation merging,

communication becoming communion.

.

The moment of cacophonous chaos passed.

Order returned…

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