In the velvet cloak of night they soar,
Silent sentinels with wisdom old,
Eyes like lanterns, bright and sure,
Guardians of secrets yet untold.

Among the ancient trees they glide,
With wings that barely stir the air,
A mystic dance in shadows hide,
In the moon’s gentle, silver glare.

Their calls echo through the stillness deep,
A haunting melody, soft and clear,
Guiding souls in restless sleep,
Through the realms of dream and fear.

Owls, the cryptic sages of the dark,
In their gaze, the night reveals,
Stories etched with nature’s mark,
In silence, their wisdom heals.