Found in the woods on a summer afternoon

There is something so mysterious about walking
out into the wilderness on a warm dusty summer day.
With every step the light changes
as it filters through the foliage at all levels of the sky.
Somewhere an owl hoots, misplaced in these daylight hours, shouldn't he be sleeping?
But he can't sleep, and nor can I.
I lie awake sometimes and listen to him calling in the darkness.
His restlessness is my restlessness. I search the night as calmly but urgently as he.
For what? I have no answer. Whatever I can find. Whatever I need.
But in summer days and nights the hours pass so slowly.
I take my steps slowly. I raise my head slowly to see blueness peaking in through the green.
My owl friend hoots again, unseen but present.
I know he's there and he knows me.