
The big old gray owl, how wise he can be, Hiding from hunters that will never see. Sitting in plain sight on a branch of a tree, Blending with the bark will keep him free. When night slips in and the darkness takes hold, You can be sure that slick owl will get very bold. The depth of his sound reaches beneath every root, Filling chilled air with that mysterious familiar hoot. Other then his big round eyes of a bright yellow, The quick turning of his head, what a smart fellow. Many claims are made that the owl is very wise, There can be no doubt for look at that disguise. Author Eileen Clark 2022
Beautiful Photo taken by @edseljamesbatuigas
I love your poem, Eileen! How cool how the owl blends in with the tree.
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That picture is what inspired the poem, thank you.
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Beautiful photo indeed. And so is the poem. Wonderful!
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Thank you Selma.
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It is difficult to tell the owl from the tree! Wow! Great camouflage. I had no idea. Thanks for the picture and the poem.
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Thank you Linda for reading and commenting on my poem, it was this awesome picture that inspired me to write the poem.
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! Love that!
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Thank you. 🙂
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