Whooo- Hooooot!

All is quiet in the forest
Except for the HOOOO-HOOOTing of an owl
And when her ghostly call
Echoes across the hillsides
All is silent in the evening mist

Then it comes again
Whooooo-Hoooot
Whooooo- Hooot

And all inhabitants
of the forest respect
Her midnight call,
Unlike the whip-poor-will’s
Incessant mating call
That keeps sleepy forest eyes awake,
this is the call of
the Hoot Owl,
something special
and important to the entire forest

And so all the animals listen’
And one by one they
Come to understand
And to decifer the
Whoo – hoots
And the hooot – whoos

And each in his own way
knew it was a birthday song
and vowed never again to forgot
The Hoot owl’s birthday

For the Hoot Owl is vigil of the forest,
Warning of danger from her high perch,
Protector of baby animals in danger
And when she HOOOOOOTs
At midnight, something is wrong!

And it was wrong, very wrong
For her to have to hoot Happy Birthday
To herself
That is demeaning to someone so dignified,
Being protector of the woods and animals
Poet Lauriate of the Pennsylvania hills
Patron Saint to all February groundhogs
Being one of the early poets of this forum,
Outrunning Balladeer for the first touch of a treasure chest,
Caring for newborn baby’s, seeing life and knowing death
Working at night so the patience will have
Continuous and quality care over the night hours,
Taking a small break for her job and as she
Sips a soda, jots down one the most
Heart wrenching poems you’ve ever read
She posts the poem, and tears are running
Down your face,
Meanwhile, in the nurses’ lounge,
She is singing happy birthday to herself
As she walks back to proceed with
Her hoot owl duties,
newcomers to passions are asking
Who is Hoot?
Just stay in the forest and you
Will come to know her
And somehow be very deeply touched
By her writings
And next year we’ll all sing
Happy Birthday on time

Happy Birthday, Hoot
Love you, Liz