Cats and Owls in the Night

How can I describe the feeling of movement? How to make clever remarks about rather dull boxes filled with books? Well, I heard an owl just a few days ago which made made me stop and contemplate the night and the morning after night. I sat down on a bench and listend through a Dire Straits record. When I neared the end the had started to crawl up the mountains surrounding Bergen. It was at this time I realized that the owls and cats had left the night, I was nearing my waking hours. Entering my flat at this time, in silence, only the slow whisteling of the morning sun and the dull sound of my flatmates snoring reminded me that I am not alone, and I am rather thankful for that. But, when I was sitting in my room, well actually sitting in my room listening to some goodnight jazz, I glanced out of the window of my bedroom and said hello to an early morning cat who greeted my late night with an early morning greeting.

1

When cats run home and light is come,
And dew is cold upon the ground,
And the far-off stream is dumb,
And the whirring sail goes round,
And the whirring sail goes round;
Alone and warming his five wits,
The white owl in the belfry sits.

2

When merry milkmaids click the latch,
And rarely smells the new-mown hay,
And the cock hath sung beneath the thatch
Twice or thrice his roundelay,
Twice or thrice his roundelay;
Alone and warming his five wits,
The white owl in the belfry sits.

Lord Tennyson