The Owl

Screech Owl  
by Hope VanDerwater

The Owl

The owl hunts 

In the night 

Watching,

Waiting,

For a chance 

To jump on  

A mouse

A bat

Anything

Small like that.

He is silent,

Wise, and old,

Kills in the dark

In the cold

He sits high up,

In a tree.

I look at him

He looks at me.

Yellow eyes,

Feathered ears

Sees in the dark

He has no fears.

I watch him fly 

Swooping away

And thank God 

I'm not his prey.

 by Georgia VanDerwater

Hope drew this owl for my dad for Christmas.  I saw it hanging in our dining room and decided to write a poem about it.  I hope you like it!

A Dog Poem by Georgia

THAT DOG

That's the one, Mommy!

The one over there

the dog with the scar,

and curly brown hair.

No way, my darling.

Not that filthy mutt.

It probably has fleas

and look at that cut.

She's beautiful, Mom.

Not "it." She's a "her."

We'll take her home

and brush out her fur.

I'll take her walking

every day rain or shine.

We'll buy her a collar

and then she'll be mine.

We can't do this honey.

We can't take home that.

What would Dad think?

How about a cat?

No, Mom.

I won't take another.

Dad would love her.

Why can't you, Mother?

O.K. honey.

I guess she is cute.

Furry face, big brown eyes.

No, not a brute.

But you'll have to wash her.

I'm not doing that.

Don't forget to walk her

and brush out that mat.

Oh, yes, Mom,

I'll do that.

Now don't you worry.

I'll brush her and wash her

till she's more soft and furry

than she's ever been!

She and I will be best friends.

I'll name her Rebecca

and her scar I will mend.

© Georgia VanDerwater, 2011

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