When Maeve died she was just beginning to write. Here is the only poem she ever wrote: Owl, Owl in the night, Your feathers shining bright. Your prey in you magical stare; Mouse or rabbit, Fox or hare. Owls, Owls everywhere, Flying through the cool night air. Let me look into your eyes, Owl, through the night air. Now the night is almost gone, You go to sleep with the sun. And now I say good light, Owl, Owl in the night. By Maeve Cooley age 10