THE POET AND THE MOCKINGBIRD

 

The morning the air is filled with the aroma of Cedar trees and last night's rain

the sky still full of marshmallow clouds which rise up in wondrous display

clouds so high they look like they could touch heaven itself

still, no one comes out to see

no one steps out of their house or their car

no one goes by foot anymore

so just an old poet walks around these woods

he takes his time since it is the one thing he has plenty of

a lone Mockingbird shadows him

curious as to what a man is doing here in his domain

The old poet and the Mockingbird do have things in common

both sing out of the same hymn book 

the poet writes words but the Mockingbird sings the high notes

both are artists of a sort

Some would say the mockingbird is the better of the two

the bird sings so exuberantly

with so much joy in its voice

Both the bird and the old man praise the morning

but without question

the Mockingbird is the better poet.