Upon her perch she sits on high
Watching all that saunters by
Taking in every movement that passes
Watching through eyes that look like glasses
With ears tufts that are barely visible to the eye
The female of the species is ready to fly
At a moments notice to catch her prey
Is the way she spends most of her day
Searching diligently for food to feed her young
As on life’s ladder, they climb a rung
With her mate who she spends her life
Like any other homely wife
Hunts by day and sleeps at night
In darkness, she can still cast a fright
Her piercing yellow iris deeply set
Shines and stares, as bright as it can get
A contrast to her snow-white face
As she sits with never a feather, out of place
Her nest though is situated on the ground
But well hidden, rarely found
Taking turns to stand guard
Because their life is harsh, so very hard
To fend for her young, generally from eight to ten or more
Many mouths to find food for
But she’s still one of God’s loveliest creatures that’s for sure
The like of which will be around for evermore