You are a mighty shadow perched in the Elm tree overwhelmed by leaves from summer past. The afternoon sky, crowded with storm clouds, invites night too early. We take turns peeking at you through binoculars. I'm amazed I can make out your owl face, your narrow, exquisite beak, your layers of delicate feathers. Windy gusts send the branches into a fury, but you stay lockstep with the wind, you know this dance by heart.