Our Owl

A February visitor, a finished book, and five and a half hours I don't need back

Dalle-E AI oil painting from an iPhone photo

This morning a barred owl appeared on the wooden stake I’d put by the driveway to guide the snowplow driver. He sat there for the better part of an hour, calm as stone, eyes half-closed, unbothered by anything — the house, the cold, the fact that his perch was a piece of lumber meant for a man in a truck. He j…