The owls are going crazy outside, but as I scan treetops for a glimpse of the elusive predators, I regret to see what I can only hear.
Mass-produced scarecrows and shades of the cooling season are decorating yards with much needed festivity, but the owls aren’t fooled as they converse back and forth about the weather.
“Pleasant days we’ve been having, nice enough to breathe again, cold nights when the breeze blows by, cold days when the front moves in.”
A full moon wanes over the top of a troubled freeway and dusk welcomes the mounting fumes of daily traffic jams, but the owls enjoy time alone in the city while turmoil grips 9 to fivers. Molded pumpkins line walkways trying to hold out for the big night and homemade ghosts hang randomly from trees, but the owls aren’t fooled as they fly down to take a better look.