The Owl and the Mice

When I'm a teacher I am a wise old owl,

My feathers are preened, my eyes can scowl.

The mice are out, they laugh and play.

I can be kind, or a kind of bird of prey.

I swoop down from my safety coop.

Into their world, they work in groups.

I descend my wisdom, they take it or leave it.

I ask them to make things, if they can only believe it.

I am a wise and well preened owl,

they are the mice trying to figure how

a bird of prey can laugh and play

with mice it was sent to eat without delay.

But an owl knows when to make the kill,

when to strike and when to be still.

These mice can go, out and grow

and learn what an owl can do.

Mice play in the park, mice make their mark

and so do old wise owls too.