In the leafy theater of the wild,
Resides a creature,
Nature’s unruly child.
A mockingbird,
A trickster,
A teaser,
A feathery sprite,
A bird basking
In dark and light.
Small,
Yet his pranks are quite bold
He’s a melody thief,
A story to be told.

He chirps,
He sings,
With such deceit,
Imitating others in perfect repeat,
Tiny sparrows,
Their hearts a flutter,
Their parental calls he'd slyly utter.
Hah!,
How he'd laugh in avian delight,
As the fledglings squawked in fretful fright.

Using fear as a curious bait,
A symphony of mischief
He'd orchestrate.
When hunger stirred his tiny frame,
The mockingbird began his game.

He'd cry like a hawk,
So sharp,
So clear,
And feast as others fled in fear.
'The symbol of innocence,' some say,
But oh bird,
How the mockingbird loves his play.

Oh,
The joy of the homans,
With their lenses so grand,
They’re seeking rare warblers,
In the soft woodland.
But the mockingbird cackles,
As he sings their sweet song,
The photographers sigh,
Again they’ve been fooled all along.

"I may be small,
But mighty am I,
For I rule the ground and the azure
sky." he insists,
His tiny chest puffing,
He enters the mist.
A mind so bold within feathers light,
A mischief-maker of the night.

Daring and dauntless,
A curious sight,
He'd challenge the eagle
To a feathery fight.
"Why not?" he'd chirp,
Head up till the sky,
With a smirk and a bounce,
"My voice is mighty,
And that's what counts!"

Oh Birds and Homans be aware,
The life of the mockingbird,
Audacious and spry,
Echoing others,
Under the soft clouded sky.
His song may be stolen,
His tactics, Absurd,
Yet there’s never a dull moment,
For that sly, little bird.

So,
Listen for laughter in the trees,
It's our mockingbird,
Ever eager to please,
A playful rascal,
A merry rogue,
The king of jesters in his leafy abode.

© astivan