Today, at the edge of the lawn — a meter board, peter board, step on up — magnitude [!] a gray bird was perched,
Hey [!] how gay, may I play [?] your way, say, please stay.
I sway trying to discern the shape, a cape, his feathers…
But it’s the attitude of this dude, the mood, how rude, you’d think this bird construed a prelude to my next symphony — Rhythm of Life – but no this bird,
And I am filled with gratitude for its fortitude to change my solitude.
I remember you [!] I said to the Mockingbird.


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