I Heard the Mockingbird

Last night, in the first hours of spring,

I heard the mockingbird singing

between dreams as the fat moon,

one night passed full, sailed

silent as ever through the old

sky, the two of us listening.

-wrensong

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About wrensong

I am a poet who collects stones. I am a wanderer of creek beds and forests, canyons and high desert who, coming home, sometimes finds words to tell the story. I am a companion with others in the search for Deep, Wild Soul. I shape containers in time and space for others to come together to write, to tell their stories, to hold each other in the telling. I am a grandmother and the companion of a cat named Alaya. I often travel out into open country with a man who calls himself Dunewalker who has hung his hammock in my heart.
This entry was posted in Birds, Moon, Nature, Spring, The River and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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