He hears a who. Leaning from his window,
he calls to Owl, "Owl, what is poetry?"
"Oh, poetry! Poetry is bright stars
in the branches, moonlight on the grass,
and silent wings to take me wherever I go.
Good night, dear Daniel," she whispers,
and flies off into the night.
On Sunday, the sun wakes up Daniel,
He is happy when he remembers it's Sunday.
"Today is Poetry in the Park," says Daniel,
"and I have a poem!"
"and I have a poem!"
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