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Owl

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The wise old owl
Sits upon the branch

And turns his head to look at me

As I approach.

In the moment we lock eyes

I am aware of more than

Can be put into words;

There in my heart and mind.

We are all of time in 

Physical form,

Blood and bones.

And the wise owl knows this

 As he says everything to me

Though he does not speak.

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