In the heart of the Peaks, where shadows play,
Bella, the barn owl, rests in quiet day.
Her feathers soft, a cloak of moonlight gleams,
As daylight fades, she wakes from silent dreams.
Perched high above, in the ancient roost she lays,
A guardian of the night in moonlit haze.
Her eyes like orbs, reflecting starry might,
In the stillness, she waits for the cloak of night.
When dusk embraces, she spreads her wings wide,
A nocturnal dancer in the eventide.
Through velvety dark, she soars on silent flight,
A huntress in the shadows, graceful and white.
The peaks below, a canvas of twilight,
Bella descends with a stealthy flight.
Her talons keen, a deadly silhouette,
In moonlit silence, her prey she’ll get.
Mist-kissed valleys and ancient stones,
Bella, the phantom, in the night she owns.
With whispered rustles, her presence unfurls,
A spectral ballet, in the nocturnal swirls.
As dawn approaches, she retreats once more,
To her roost above, to sleep and restore.
In the Peaks, Bella’s tale weaves through the night,
A nocturnal guardian, in moon’s soft light.