Out of nowhere—silence and sky—it appeared in landing by her side.
Through windowed divide, close and near, she stared at the owl in rest. She looked into its eyes. Owl stared back and into hers. In the silence, they communed as certain spirits can and do—discovered magic of a way.
What was said, what was shared, she didn’t know and couldn’t say. Still she knew—between—there shared exchange and understanding, whatever it had been.
How long it lasted, how long moment lived, this too she did not know. Time alters in such moments. What seems is not always so. Like winter world, it seemed to her time froze.
Then—as sudden and surprising as it appeared—owl took again to flight and departed away into sky and silence.
Magic broke to familiar voice in room and near beside.
“I bet that he returns,” familiar voice spoke.
“What?” she answered, surprised, still processing and making sense of magic’s moment. Only at voice did she realize all had been noticed and given meaning in the seeing of another.
“He’s been searching for you,” familiar voice told. “You could see it in his eyes, the way he rested in his peace. Now that he found you, why wouldn’t he return?”
It was a strange thought, a strange belief. Still, she hoped it too: for quiet friend in silent flight’s arrive to be near and by her side; to read her eyes as she did his, soul-speaking in stares of way that spirits understood; for a magic, a beauty, a wonder, a friend—searched for, found, returning and, after, never far.
Hope wrote romance of the sign.
Later in night, still on her mind, message appeared within a story:
Words spoke. Words struck. Words moved, and in belief she prayed their truth. She focused on the magic, the synchronistic and the beautiful. She prayed for friend and signs’ return.
She stared on the empty branch. Right then, she longed for his return, shared company in the silence.