Before They Cold Sing...Before They Could Fly Poem by Jim Yerman

Most of my morning walks begin in silence…it's just me and thoughts I turn into words.
but for a week, now, when I reach a particular tree I'm greeted by the song of a mockingbird.

Her song, which I like to think she's singing just for me, is melodious and sweet…
and as I pass she flies in front of me and continues singing from a tree across the street.

So…for about a week every morning as I leisurely walk along…
I've stopped between these two trees so I can listen to her song.

As I listen to one of the most beautiful sounds I have ever heard
I think of how we human parents are similar to the parents of the mockingbird.

How we were there when our children were born (or hatched) to hear their initial cries…
How we knew them before they discovered how to sing…before they leaned to fly.

I wonder…do we each hold on to images…memories to which we cling…
of times before our children learned to fly…before they learned to sing?

And every day do we both feel proud we played a part in the songs our children sing…
that we were there to encourage them…when it came time to spread their wings?

I wonder…do mockingbird parents get old and gray…
If they cold turn their thoughts into words…
would they be able to express how they feel when their children visit
and bring grand baby birds?

Perhaps one morning as I watch this mockingbird spread her wings…
I'll have the chance to meet her parents…and as we pause and listen to their child sing.

we'll share stories and memories of moments…that have long ago gone by
of a time before our children learned to sing…
before they learned to fly.