our sweetest birdsong
usually comes from finches
orioles and western bluebirds
arriving from the rapidly
chilling north
on a quiet walk you can hear
the rich syrup of their songs
local birds seem to lack
hot dusty desert summers
a trial of life and death
every breath cherished
moisture conserved
rehearsals and training
few and far between
except for the mockingbird
he’s a whole choir
an early morning glee club
a late-night battle-of-the-bands
with music that makes
all these visiting soloists
cover their ears
because it’s that good