Thursday, February 15, 2018

Little Owl (Durer), Sonnet #392






















Encore! Let’s sing out with an “o” vowel!
I know of a man like a leetle owl,
Draped head to tail with a golden cowl.
They say he even has a golden bowel
He fills with gophers caught on the prowl.
A kingly bird, his perch a small dowel,
He clears out his cage with a dirty towel.
All that work’s left him with a flappy jowl,
His chirps sounding like a whispered growl.
He’s known to hate the consonant avowal
Unless it leads to a follower’s howl
Of pain or his latest conquest’s yowl
Of pleasure, though that tends to make him scowl.
You choose. As a fowl is he fair or foul?