There once was an owl who howled

“Who’s there? Who’s there?”

“It’s your mother, you feather head!” came the reply.

“Catch us if you can,” came others, “we’re your supper,”

and everyone ran off in different directions at once,

for this was an owl who needed glasses, and whose

mother was still feeding him.

Photo by Bethanyk, obtained during my re-blog of her Wise Being of the Night