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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