. . . And So I Surrendered - May 4, 2026

if my desert mockingbird

were to travel to Nebraska

would it need to sing whippoorwill,

pheasant, grouse and meadowlark,

must it forget its past, forge

a new life, an odd bird

in a strange land?

I almost moved to Portugal –

new language, new climate,

new food, different traditions

unknown bird life

but I decided to stay here,

surrendering to the nest

that will be my last home

this place of familiar trees

places to eat, easy friends,

simple takeoffs and landings,

and through an open window

on sleepless nights, deathly

quiet but for the full-throated

songs of the mockingbird,

I would know he’s mocking no one