Poem
by Nate
Owls
That is what we are.
We are graceful as we fly
In the night sky.
My brothers
and I constantly move because
our homes are always being destroyed
by loggers .
It's not fair, not fair at all.
Just, yesterday
I heard two loggers,
they said that
only 10% of the Pacific Northwest is
left.
That's my home!
Then they got worried.
Worried about their
buisness.
Not our lives.