They move through the night as if stitched into it, seamless and soundless. You don't hear an owl arrive. You feel it--the brief shift in the air above your head, a whisper of movement. It always feels me with a sense of awe. The silence...
They move through the night as if stitched into it, seamless and soundless. You don't hear an owl arrive. You feel it--the brief shift in the air above your head, a whisper of movement. It always feels me with a sense of awe. The silence...