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By Randy Rich
Other Poems by Randy Rich


A mockingbird sings at 2:00 AM,

waking me from a dead sleep,

like a dream, the still

darkness settles into the hardwood

floors, the fan moves the air,

my beloved wife, asleep in the shadows

of the moonlight as it filters through

the sounds of creation.


Stars shine like birds

moving through the oak trees, through

the soul of the seeing, light

filtering through the dead branches,

earth spinning into view.


I believe in something beyond

this tiny frame, insignificant

corpse of the future, becoming ashes,

into nothing, forgotten.

It sings, even in the night,

through the breeze that carries the sounds

of power, of beauty in the broken stillness.



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Submitted: Thursday, May 14, 2009

Last Updated: Thursday, May 21, 2009

About the Poet
I am married and have two beautiful children. I am a Professional Christian Counselor and Director of services for children at a local community mental health center.

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