For several years now I have enjoyed the privilege
Of residing in a leafy neighborhood just outside Atlanta
A city that after many setbacks
Still calls itself I think the City of Trees

And for several weeks I had enjoyed the sound
Late at night and even rather early
Of the cry of that creature a little research identified
As the barred owl or simply the hoot owl

I leaned on the porch rail chatting with I forget whom
At early dusk the shadows just beginning to lengthen
When out of the west flying with great speed
The owl itself came to light in the front yard maple

And the bird gave the cry I had just learned to love
The rising intonation followed by the falling
Hoo hoo hoo-hoo?  Hoo hoo hoo-hoo.
I saw what had only been heard before

And now another unprecedented event
The same cry but pitched just a half-step higher
Was heard from the west end of the neighborhood
So there was a pair of them

And out of the west flying with great speed
Came another owl of slightly smaller size
That lighted in the oak in the yard next to ours
And it gave a third variation of the same subtle theme

Purists distinguish the aesthetic apprehension of art
From the enjoyment of natural beauties
Phenomena spontaneous and hence unconscious
Unworthy of the judgments of taste

But I could not distinguish the effect of this song
From that of the second movement of the seventh symphony
To take me outside myself
Momentary relief from the frustration of striving