In a forest of green and gold,

A gathering of feathers and songs of old.

An owl wise with ancient lore,

A sparrow swift, near the forest floor.

A hawk with eyes that pierce the veil,

A dove that sings a mournful tale.

Among these wings, a croaking rings,

From a creature that hops and seldom sings.

In their midst, cunning and grim,

Who stands out where colors begin?

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