Soul Song

Atop a pole,

In slender form;

A mockingbird

Greets the morn.


Dull, his color,

Brown, gray and white.

Wings flash

When he takes flight.


His melody

So strong and clear;

I stop and turn

So I can hear.


What makes him stand

Against the sky

And sing a song

So lofty, so high?


How does he go on

With no call returned;

No acclaim, no honor,

No wealth has he earned?


Yet my heart swells,

My spirit rises;

Inspired and drawn

To his reprises.



His gift displayed;

Even when

Light fades away.


Take courage, my soul,

That hope may stay

And through your life

Let God’s music play.


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