I wish I were an owl so I could fly away.
Stronger than all the others, silent Great Grey.
They'll never genuinely see me whilst I course above down gazing heads.
But somehow they'll know I'm up there, only surfacing to leave mice dead.
I have outright power.
I exist as I please.
The only memory they have of me is my molt spurned feather whose tips caress dead leaves.
My feather falls from my clouded castle but I continually fly.
I wish I were an owl as I solely rule my life and synthesize with the sky.
by Jessica Herzog
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