Dad, I breathed into the phone, I was sitting on the stoop
(smoking alone into the dark of the middle of the woods),
and I heard the craziest, freakiest noise. Really? he asked.
What did it sound like? I tried my best to imitate. Well,
he said gravely, I have good news, and I have bad news.
The good news is that what you heard was only an owl.
The bad news, he added, is that the Native Americans
referred to that particular owl as the Messenger of Death.
**Linking with Poetry Jam,where the prompt of "owl" reminded me of this little story from my days as a single mom. It's one of my very favorites about my dad because it captures the wise but unpredictable spirit of the man.