The Bird

 

 

WHAT YOU SOW

I heard a bird

Singing a variety show.

What kind of bird I did not know.

Loud, pure notes

Like arias for the air,

Trills to thrill and fill the sky,

Ecstatic melodies which require

More than two wings by far,

Wide internals rapidly bridged,

Intricate bebop flights of chirp,

A whole medley of melodies

Flung to the sky.

Who is this guy? I say

To myself.

 

Then—sighted when not flighted

I see a long-tailed impressionist:

         a mocking bird.

A one man show

Imitating birds of feather

Who don't flock together.

With great versatility

And wondrous chirpability

My feathered guy

Soloed so high

On the wings of the morning

That the great golden egg

Shining down on the world

Rose up and applauded

With bright approval.

 

Earth-bound reader,

Open your eyes and see

In the skies,

Flocks and flocks and flocks.

Open your ears

And hear the piercing

Bird who mocks, mocks, mocks.