Baby Mockingbird

We set together

in the early evening

the mockingbirds returned

time and again

to a nearby tree.

Were they feeding

someone?

Again we watched,

with my camera in tow

I climbed the tree.

Perched on a branch

near the nest

he stood--terrified

soft gray and white

hairs standing straight out

I looked into his eyes

I was not a predator.

They came fast and swift

swooping down from

many directions

the love of the parents

for the child

you would die for him

but you must live for him.

Darkness descents, the mimicking

goes on into the night

repeating and repeating.