The mockingbird that sings before the dawn
is unaware I am his audience
as he pours out his tune above the lawn
while perched upon a tree or else a fence.
Although he sings to say the place is his,
or possibly for summoning a mate,
I don’t care much for what his purpose is
and simply love the song that he has made.
His song served something he did not intend:
to bring delight to whom he could not see,
as, hopefully, the songs that I have penned
will please some beings invisible to me:
I hope that angels will enjoy my words
like I delight in songs of mockingbirds.

December Nocturne

Mario A. Pita

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