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This poem is taken from Poetry Nation 3 Number 3, 1974.

Owl Poem Frederick Morgan

Do not wait for the owl to come out
before you play your games.

The owl sleeps in the tree all day,
at night he comes out to hunt and hoot.

He sleeps in the old weary pine-tree
but at night, his eyes are whirlpools

and when he flies over the house his shadow
carries the house with it above the pines

to a lonely shining place where calm eyes watch
...


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