There was an owl that we call a great horned owl, for his feathers stuck up on both sides of his head, and he always looked angry or surprised. The owl is a creature of the night, but this owl has heard of day, and he wanted to see. Awake he stayed all throughout the night with his brothers and sisters, soaring above the treetops, beneath the clouds and bright owls far above. Come dawn, when the owl’s brothers and sisters lay down in their nest, he stayed awake and watched the sun rise for the first time, and the world was awash with light. He pivoted his head and saw the chipmunks come out from their hickory homes and their hollow holes. He saw the birds fly from their small nests, carrying bright light and color like ribbons across the sky as they sang. The owl saw the sky, all blue for the first time, and the white of the clouds, the green of the treetops, the gold of sunlight. The dawn was a birth and a miracle for the owl, and the day rolled on. He saw river stones beneath the running water and the bees awake to taste the flowers. He saw the flowers, painted every hue; no more black and grey, or hiding from the moon.

And the day rolled on, and evening came, and twilight soon after. The owl saw the chipmunks scurry home, and the birds perch lightly in their nests. Their colors were muted now, as they gave them to the setting sun to keep. He saw the setting sun, golden and red, bright and almighty, and somehow it went away and the owl saw the sun no longer. The sky’s light blue bruised to black, and the owl was excited, for though the owl loved this day, the owl is a creature of the night. He heard his brothers and sisters awaken from their nests, unfolding their great wings. He saw the bright owls far above wake from their dark homes, and the moon rise high in her arc. The treetops dimmed into a blanket of black. The owl was excited, for it was time to soar and feast with his brothers and sisters. His brothers and sisters called to him through the sky, and he heard them rise up to the dark treetops, and so the owl too raised his great wings to join them. The owl perched on the treetop with an eager heart and heavy wings. He was tired, for it was a long day. And so the owl watched as his brothers and sisters took flight, hooting and swooping throughout the clean night air, and he wished to join them; to fly and to hunt amongst his kind, but the owl was too tired. It was a good day for the owl, but he had now seen his only dawn, and the sunlight stayed in his eyes even still. He would not forget it, and he would not return. Though the day is bright and full of color and life, the owl is a creature of the night.