An Owl's Tale

The owl sat on the dripping branch,
A sad and sorry sight,
Completely drenched by a cloud’s full voice,
On a wet and stormy night.

When, as the dark clouds gathered,
Threatening, full and taut,
He settled in a warm, safe tree,
At least, that’s what he thought.

Then when the heavens opened,
A smug smile crossed his beak,
But lasting glee, wasn’t to be,
The tree started to leak.

At first there was a drip or two,
But with a growing roar,
It grew and grew, until the few,
Led to a good deal more.

Because the rain distracted him,
He didn’t see his mate,
Snuggle up beside him,
Until it was too late.

He hadn’t really paid much heed,
And missed his partner’s words,
Until she nibbled at his ear,
And this is what he heard.

"Would you like an early night?",
The siren softly cooed,
It seemed she had something in mind,
That could get pretty rude.

He looked at her, she looked at him,
There was no room for doubt,
She had a look upon her face,
That showed she had it all worked out.

Some bubbly and some sautéed vole,
A little hors d’oeuvre treat,
Wagnerian music from the skies,
All that should sweep him off his feet.

He saw the line she had in mind,
He saw where it would lead,
To fluttering wings and eyelids,
To dark and secret deeds.

And as the rain relentlessly,
Beat down in hissing sheets,
He mused and dripped and dwelt upon,
This unexpected treat.

He dwelt for a brief moment,
He dripped a good deal longer,
The lightning flashed, the thunder crashed,
The rain grew ever-stronger.

He shuffled closer to his love,
Her ardour drew him near,
He turned his head, ninety degrees,
And whispered in her ear.

"I want you really badly,
I truly, truly do,
But what with all this pouring rain,
It's just - too wet to woo."