Poetry

A Mocking Bird Calls

A mocking bird calls to me, warning me
As we stand before our house on a winter’s night
About the silent shadows that stalk as evening falls
The black sky is so smooth no single star penetrates
The outline of yesterday is fading in my head
It ripples like the full moon reflected in the fishpond

And some gypsy somewhere peers into her crystal ball
And I ask what it is it she sees. What is depicted there?
‘Look up into the sky there is where you will find
The grand dome of a cathedral ceiling. I peer and I
Enslaved by the prosaic see only a darkness
Of the black night sky. ‘This is more,’ she says,
Than an eerie dark, more a stark stillness.’

And dark around me deepens, deepens
I don’t reveal my fear, after all, everyone
Except maybe someone’s eccentric little sister
Accepts that the dark is simply the dark
That the moon is simply a guide to lead us
Through the night. And that the stars
Are just glittering for our celestial entertainment

And, one by one, the relatives retreat indoors
But the eccentric little sister hugs her secret to herself
She had commandeered that green lawn before her
And she stands before the patio doors, dancing
On the spot, ready to leave her secret kingdom