by Earl J. Wilcox
Before daybreak today,
warm, mild winds,
clouds tossing
like restless children.
A poignant mockingbird
swooped near my head
as I stooped
to pick up the paper.
Our seasons out of kilter,
she was nesting
in a nearby tree.
This December
mild as May
confused a mother,
disturbed my morning reverie.
Earl J. Wilcox founded The Robert Frost Review, which he edited for more than a decade. His poetry was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize.
