Songs of the Mockingbird- a poem

MY walk this early morn was filled

With sounds of song and breeze.

For floating through the air, the birds

Were singing quite with ease.

THE songs were such a multitude

Of many different calls.

Each changing with such poise and grace

With every sound so small.

SOON I saw a Mockingbird

And then I realized,

That all the many sounds I heard

Were yet his special prize.

For this one bird was blessed with calls

Of life from all around.

And so he sings quite happily

Of beauty that is found.

Retm