Friday, February 01, 2008
Northern mockingbird. Wikipedia Commons
A cheery song I lately heard
That floated from a fence whereon
In rebel gray, a friend averred
That I should rise to greet the dawn
That poked its head above the verge
And splashed the clouds with hopeful red
Where moon and sunlight daily merge—
But I in sickness stayed abed.
Some intuition gently stirred,
I bid the curtains open drawn;
I know now what the mockingbird
Will lilt aloft when I am gone.
© 2008 Jeffrey Hull
Your rhythm is getting solid. I've been going through a weak phase but am now on the rise. Springish even.