Life Moves On

Trill me a song little mocking bird,
trill me a  song today
as I push my broom in the parking lot
and swish the leaves away.

Your note is loud and oh so clean.
You rule your nest like an iron queen.
Florida, once a state quite smart,
made you "our bird," a symbol with heart.

But now we tout a bird of prey,
a mighty bird the great osprey.
It soars aloft and builds its nest
so high above all of the rest.

Its beauty bold as we watch it fly,
it spreads its wings and owns the sky,
as somewhere in a tree nearby
a clear, sharp note begins to cry,
and the mocking bird says its goodbye
as I search the trees and I really try
to stop and breathe.
And then I sigh.
And life moves on and we're not sure why,
and life moves on,
and birds will fly.

Peace. Love, Linda