The Owl: Haibun

It is my birthday. Now in the middle of December, it is cold outside, and darkness descends earlier each day. But the house is filled with light, warm and scented with the aroma of holiday baking. My husband, our two young daughters, and I are to meet my father at a restaurant north of us, in the Philadelphia suburbs to celebrate. It will be a highway trip through rush hour traffic, but the reward will be an excellent meal and the company of my family. I turn to a living room window to pull down the shade—and stop. A white owl with black and brown markings sits in the tree directly in front of me. I stare at her, and she stares at me, both unblinking. I am transfixed, knowing that this is a special moment, not knowing I will remember it in twenty years, still uncertain about its meaning.


The Owl dispenses

winter wisdom from oak trees–

time paused in passing



Caspar David Friedrich, Owl on a Tree,” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

This is a Haibun for dVerse, where we asked to write about owls. I’ve combined it with this week’s prompt from Colleen Chesebro , using synonyms for the words, smell and cozy.




21 thoughts on “The Owl: Haibun

  1. Today (born 11-15-55) was my birthday. No, I am not one to spread this around among blogging friends. Two may remember. . .
    Aren’t the digits nice? 🙂

    I liked this a lot. I think birds may be winged messengers. I don’t suppose you figured out the deceased one who was giving this message to you, or possibly from very ancient, long ago member of the family?
    I know I have mentioned my ongoing cardinal messages from my dear Swedish Grandpa Mattson. . . 🐦 (Oddly, this little bird emoji chose to be “red” on my blue jays’ posts) Now, of course stays “blue!”

    • A belated Happy Birthday, Robin!
      It happened so long ago, Robin–I hadn’t thought of it as a winged messenger, but rather as a special birthday present. (Not that those are mutually exclusive.) 🙂

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