out the door
dog by side
the woods are calling.
insides bubbling and smiling,
tongues and tails wagging.

peel away webs shrouding eyes and face
left by 8 legged weavers in the night.
leaves crunch, twigs crack.
dust flying from
small thundering feet speeding by.

birds are all twitter
louder than past visits
possibly the early hour?

then there high in tree
sitting proudly is owl
the cause of the little folk’s alarm.

silently he glides away
leaving the little folk
muttering to themselves.