With eyes like emeralds, gleaming bright,
He sits perched high, a silent sight.
His feathers, soft as velvet deep,
A cloak of shadows, secrets keep.
The night descends, a velvet shroud,
And whispers secrets, soft and loud.
He watches, patient, in the dark,
A hunter's gaze, a silent spark.
He swoops and dives, a feathered blur,
His wings a whisper, swift and sure.
He catches prey with silent grace,
A hunter's instinct, in his face.
Then back he flies, to his high perch,
A silent king, in the moonlit search.
His emerald eyes, a watchful gleam,
The owl's domain, a silent dream.