when the gods speak, listen

[lagilman]

For a short time just now, there was a barn owl outside my window. Small, brown with the classic heart-face, clearly out-of-phase. Pandora ignored him. Boomer was anxious but well-behaved (no dashing up against the glass, etc, although his paw kept twitching).

The owl is my totem, my guardian, my speaker.

I am, not surprisingly, comforted by this visitation. Especially as it comes on the tail end of a good morning's work.

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