Mockingbirds

 

    Today I see the Myrtle tree, the lone Myrtle tree,
         the vibrant Myrtle tree, and Mockingbirds losing
               feathers, making sounds from a branch like the cardinal,
          not tomorrow, but today.
 
In the wind I hear the trees, the boastfulness of the trees,
     the hiss like a snake; they say I too belong here, should
          root here, should be angry today, but not tomorrow.
 
    Gray Squirrel outlines the eaves of the house,
       grass is aglow with native flowers,
           today, but not tomorrow Summer is ablaze,
             gulls float above Lake Pontchartrain, Mars is an orange speck
           in the night sky!
 
Not tomorrow, but today, with smog in
    California and New York City, factories          
          surrounding Beijing, with forests falling in Malaysia
             and Indonesia, and waves of plastic, bottles, bags
      washing ashore on the Cocos.
 
    With the oily waters of the Mississippi, roadkill,
         destroyed habitats and broken ecosystems of the South,
                today, not tomorrow, but today, out the back patio
                      mockingbirds chase each other—
                 through the hollies!