songbirds h. grace boyle


I am becoming an owl. I will swoop upon mice and devour them whole. Not ever to choke on the bones but to spit them out in a neat packet. I’ll glide off into the night crying “Who? Who? Who ever did love me?”

Like what you read? Give h grace boyle a round of applause.

From a quick cheer to a standing ovation, clap to show how much you enjoyed this story.