Mister Owl

A little perfect owl, size of a sparrow But an owl by manner of intention I discerned in a flash on a wee branch As a seat in a vehicle bore me by. It had no doubts about being an owl I repeat, quite certain and casual.

To be what you are with no intention Or concept of being otherwise, With only the dimmest thoughts about that Is something of which I won't philosophize; There being too much made about that stuff: So much hyperbole about small truth: Lies shielded by poor refugees from bluff.