what they really say

Raven Ralph stuck his wingtips
into the slits hidden to humans
and panning his eyes for one more gaze
of considered assessment
around the suite for sale in these
Hickory Heights, settled his countenance
towards the earth below while addressing
Barney the real estate owl.

“About the spacious branches
I can’t come up with a single beef
– nice and stout – perfect for a retiree
raven like me – and the view – oh how
supreme is this view. But I see
horses in the meadow – munching clover
and grass – I can only hope those horses
do not munch on clover and grass
into the wee hours – I also want
to wonder about how long ago
did humans cultivate and clear
what I remember as a wild world?”

Barney the real estate owl inquired,
“look I don’t mean to pry and I know
I risk becoming a cat -”
“bad place to become a cat,” Raven Ralph
interjected, “these arboreal heights.”
“That almost isn’t all that funny.
So I cannot help but to respectfully ask
– your overseas tour lasted a long time?”
“You know what they say – once the Aerial
Service gets its claws on you they keep
you for a long time and often
far from home, as in Transylvania.”
“Transylvania? That is far from home.”

Raven Ralph answered his no big deal shrug.
“About the horses in the meadow…”
Barney the real estate owl
ran his wing over his head
of thinning feathers and spent
a disconsolate sigh,
thinking this was why he was
becoming an alcoholic owl.
“Look, there’s not much we critters
of the forest can do about humans
and their horses. It is nigh
impossible to find a treetop suite
where the humans and their horses
did not cultivate the vicinity.
And yeah, to answer your unspoken
sentiment, that’s why treetop suites
are going as cheap as they do these days.”


About Timmy the Scribbler

Love to write all kinds of stuff I love writing so many different kinds of stuff it is a constant struggle to narrow the focus to a manageable handful and let the others go. But a few years ago I dipped my fingers into a poetry pie and of all my uncertainties, one thing that is no uncertainty is that it is one passion that must remain, so maybe that's the one. I do dearly delight in chopping up fictional works into stanzas and syllables.
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