Mockingbird’s Pastoral

The trees loomed above her,
willing her tiny legs to carry
her into the billowing foliage.
She climbed! oh, how she climbed!
Into the welcoming branches
of every maple and elm.
I’m a bird! I’m a bird!
I’m free! Free!
she shouted into the sky.
Standing among the branches,
her mother’s voice in the wind,
Soar, my mockingbird, soar!
Mounds of green
form a landscape
worthy even of a seaman.
She raced through
those sweeping hills,
dancing and spinning with glee.
Soar, my mockingbird, soar!
the wind whispered,
urging her to into the world.
Can I really go, Mama?
she whispers in return.
Can I do it on my own?
You’re not alone, my mockingbird.
A rustling through the trees.
Not alone, not alone…
In this place so pure,
so protected,
she is not alone.

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