Mockingbird

If I am lucky, I sit in my screened porch in the late evening. One of the lovely things about this is the nightly serenade by a local mockingbird. His song is lusty and long-lasting, exuberant and confident. Instead of the softer evening calls of other songbirds, the mockingbird is more of a showman. He often likes to sit on a bare branch in a nearby copse. Then I see him silhouetted against the silvery evening sky as he cycles through all of the songs he has assimilated. 

I can't help but to smile somehow as he brazenly belts out all of the melodies and sounds that he knows. His repetition of everything that he has found inspiring and worthwhile is uplifting. Like the mockingbird, I hope that I can reflect to the world and amplify all that I find that is good and beautiful. Like him, I may not be a perfect imitation of that which I seek to emulate. Like him, I may stand out or be different, but I hope that the way I live  also causes others to experience a bit of beauty and the unquenchable joy that is life. 

In the meantime, the mockingbird's song resonates in my soul like wordless vespers, and I send this aspiration as a petition to the heavens alongside his indomitable songs.