Bill Simmons

Grandfather's Mocking Bird

The mocking bird flies down
From within the tops of the trees
Her children they cry as she searches for food
She returns with a grasshopper in beak

Don't ever harm a mocking bird
My Grandfather he would say
They practice their songs for the Angels to sing
They get it right this way

I never understood
Though I listened the best I could
Old age is golden and now that I'm older
I understand now like I should

I tell my own children
That I know that it is so
One caught mocking bird
It must be let go

Among the heavens they fly
They practice their songs, they must get it right
For among the Angels they sing
My Grandfather knew so many things.

Poem Submitted: Monday, September 12, 2005
Poem Edited: Friday, May 21, 2010

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