In Central Park, an owl lived
And Barry was her name,
So cute and charismatic
She attained a well-earned fame.
Arriving in October
To her favorite hemlock tree,
She preened and stretched and hunted
Every night, for all to see.
Her mere existence brought such joy
New Yorkers gathered ‘round
To photograph or just observe
This treasure they had found.
Her recent death, colliding with
A maintenance-crew truck
Brought sorrow to so many
Who admired her looks and pluck.
A vigil for her drew a crowd
To bid a fond farewell
To a special creature who changed lives
By visiting a spell.
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