Friday, August 26, 2011

Song #18: My Mockingbird Marauder

My mockingbird marauder was missing, out today.
I noticed all was silent as I shooed the gnats away
And went to work with watering and pulling out of weeds
And noticed that the basil was going all to seed.
He does his garden picking well before I leave my bed,
Then he perches 'top the trellis and cocks his gray-white head.
He warbles forth his birdsong, and it lilts across my way--
So usual that its absence casts a pall upon my day.
The okra and the peppers tumbled down into my pot.
The sound of scissors snipping cut the silence. I was hot,
And beads of sweat were dripping as I listened for his song,
Then wondered quite abruptly where he was and what was wrong.
I noticed he had left me five bright cherries on the vine.
I wasn't used to finding them; he takes them all the time.
Gleefully I picked the little handful for my meal,
Then stopped and looked around me wond'ring why he didn't steal 
Tomatoes on this morning--why he left the small bright fruit.
Why was my garden empty? Why was the air so mute? 
I wondered where he'd gone, and I missed the little thief.
My picking time was joyless, and I sought the shade's relief.
I thought of those bright eyes and the tilting of his head,
The way he hops from twig to branch around my garden bed,
And decided that tomatoes didn't mean as much to me
As the sound of someone singing and the joy of company.

"I will sing to the LORD all my life; I will sing praise to my God as long as I live. May my meditation be pleasing to him, as I rejoice in the LORD."  Psalm 104:33-34

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