To Kill a Mockingbird

A mockingbird sits
perched on a song,
Throating the mellifluous
voices of cherubs,
Cleaning our miseries---
With the innocense of their opus...
His glolden brown hair
Glistening,
In the early morning sun,
Rousing us with music
Of yet another
glorious day...
But,
The hunter in men
Harkens for blood
Anesthesing all morals
Chained to the lust
that so palgued him...
And so,
The men go about the hunt
Seeking his prey with hawk eyes
Mind a blank
Except for the thrill
of the kill...
In the meantime,
The mockingbird is unperturbed
Unmindful of the looming specter
of danger,
Singing his repertoire
In blissful naivite...
Then ran
The echoing boom of death
And the predator whistling away
Satisfied with the blood
that so stained the earth,
While the mockingbird lies still...
(inspired by the book by Harper Lee)