Snow Bird Reflection

Entry for the Writer's Cramp. Perspective of the snow owl.

As the territory where cold resides
and snow is everywhere
I find my home, hidden in the trees

You can look, but you can't find me
yet.

~!~ ~!~ ~!~

Why do people destroy everything
and take my living ground?

Earth warms up, the snow disappearing
I can't hide anymore,
is there a reason to stay
where anyone can see me
sitting on a branch of the tree?

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