Perfume of Mockingbird

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

A sadness hovers in the fact that things,

Not just a few but many, have no voice.

A tree however lovely never sings.

It never speaks in sonnets to rejoice.

In life a grove of orange trees with green

And blossoms fragrant as an angel’s hymns

And spheres of fragrant orange globes are seen

But never heard though hung on dark green limbs.

Beside the grove palmettos blossom, love

In heaven’s cream and yellow, do not sing.

They cannot though they hang their sprays above,

Not having feathers of a songbird’s wing.

  The mockingbird gives voice to all these flowers.

    It sings of leaves and limb with piquant powers.