Who’s there?

Cooler morning air announces autumn’s approach.

I ponder last night’s restless sleep:

Hours of lying in wait,

But for what?

Solitary sounds sifted slowly through opened windows’ screens,

Softly slicing silent stillness.

Then, at 3 AM, haunting “whooo whooo whooo” trilogies:

An Eastern Screech-Owl called from amid lazy cricket chirps,

Like a winged horse’s whinny and neigh,

Coming from branches high.

Where was she in the darkness?

Not seen, only heard.

So I believed.

Invisible, cooler air brushes my arm.

So I believe

Fall is nigh.