The Owl
The owl,
He sit's atop a branch high up in a tree,
He's as quiet as a silent vowel,
Hidden in the shadowy stillness,
With eyes as wide as saucers,
He secretly spies what scampers below,
While in the distance wolves howl,
A mouse cautiously creeps through the grass,
When suddenly the owl swoops down,
In a shadowy haze of wind and breeze,
From his perch and captures the mouse,
HOOT!!! HOOT!!! HOOT!!! HOOT!!!,
The owl bellows as he flies away with his dinner,
Copyright © Daquan Bowrin | Year Posted 2014
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