Early This Morning

Early this morning, on my bed I heard, The wondrous singing, of a mockingbird. Somewhere outside, in the giant oak tree, A voice from heaven, singing loud and free. Such beautiful music, in flats, and in sharps, What glorious teacher, taught it the art? All in acapela, the music I heard, Yet Angels in heaven would envy this bird. To carry a tune, in just the right pitch, And to switch in the middle, with nary a hitch. The most beautiful songs, flowed from his soul, They brightened the morning, like mountains of gold. As I looked through my window, at the sweet mockingbird, My jaw falling open empty of words, Two more mockingbirds arrived on the scene, And sat in the oak, with its leaves of green. And the trio harmonizing like angels on high, Raised their voices to heaven, and the morning sky. Twisting their necks to gaze down at me, In their hollywood bowl in a vast green sea. February 25,2016 Twenty Nine Palms California