Last night, I looked out my bedroom window.
Up in the tree, I saw an owl.
It had big round eyes and soft feathers.
The owl sat very still and quiet.
Then it blinked—slowly, once, then again.
The moonlight made its feathers shine.
I whispered, “Hello, owl,” but it didn’t fly away.
It just watched and blinked, calm and wise.
The stars twinkled, and the night felt peaceful.
The owl blinked one more time before I went to sleep.