A Bird Of Prey

The owl moves swiftly,
gliding through the cool night air.

His amber eyes are round like moons
and his sharp talons grip the small,
limp body of a mouse. He hunts as
much as he can,

for when the sky is bright and blue,
he sleeps soundly, a well earned rest.

His alert eyes are tightly closed as
he sits hidden away in the hollow
of an old oak tree, waiting for night
to fall once again.

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