Guess Hoot
The same old path I took each day;
No encounters were received.
Just a plain old trek; the same old way;
So monotonous I believed.
Sure, the gardens, they were lovely;
So many different trees;
Roots poured on further daily;
Their beauty greatly pleased.
Still the walk, it got so old;
One morning it all changed.
I passed beneath a giant oak;
Where sat a feathered Sage.
“Hello Sir,” I greeted, “You’re a handsome owl”; but, he just cried,
“hoot, hooty”; as I stood there in the breeze.
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