The Merry Mockingbird
A merry mockingbird prances
as if she can’t contain her glee;
dancing among the bare branches
of a pecan tree aged grey as she.
The soloist sings loud and strong;
chirping her ever-changing tune;
coaxing the sun awake with song
then softly serenading the moon.
The herald of the break of day
is with elated hymns inviting
the groggy morning to push away
the night’s dark and downy covering.
I watch the sun raise his sleepy head
and with his light the world awakens.
Earth’s horizon that was sun’s bed
the silvery moon now has taken.
The delighted diva has wakened dawn
and sang to stars, "Sleep tight!"
She flutters her feathers, bobs a bow,
then majestically takes flight.
Susan Tarrant - March 2012
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Slowly, ever so slowly, the poem finally emerges. Like a timid animal craving human touch (or like a bird craving the seed I set out), afraid, but ever growing bolder.
I have a mockingbird that visits us every morning. She sits atop the highest branches of one of the oldest, tallest pecan trees we have. Every morning, she sings away my sleepy cobwebs with the most bright and cheerful songs. I started this poem for her and then couldn't get past the first verse. Sometimes writing can be so frustrating!!! I wish my poems came as easy as the songs she sings.
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Creator of all creatures, I thank you with all my heart for the song birds that bring such joy. I cannot imagine a world without them. You make such wonderful, beautiful, magical things! ~ Amen
