Mockingbird
Sitting with Brutus on the grass in the park.
A mockingbird lands atop the baseball field fence in front of us.
He sees us.
Unmoved, he surveys the grassy field.
Patiently, he looks around.
Suddenly, he glides down to the field,
Quickly picks a bug from the ground,
Flies back up to the top of the fence, and
Eats it in one fell swoop.
Again, he surveys the grassy field.
Patiently, he looks around.
Quickly glides back down,
Picks another bug effortlessly from the ground,
Eats it whole in a blink of an eye, and
Flies back to the top of the fence.
Then flies to a branch on the tree next to the fence.
He hops up the branch.
He seems to be looking for something.
Then, he stands still.
He quickly glides down,
Picks a third bug from the ground and eats it.
He flies back up to a different branch, and
Immediately dives back down onto the grass.
A fresh worm in the beak, and with a little work, eats it.
Amazed at the mockingbird’s accuracy, I ask it,
“How do you choose which bug to go after?”
In my mind, it gently responds,
“I don’t choose it, it chooses me.”
How many things are chosen for us?
Who we are born to
Where we are born
The sex of our children
Who we fall in love with
When we fall in love
The people who enter our life
When we get sick
The music we enjoy
Are “choice” and “control” the the ultimate illusion?
Are serendipity, fate and destiny far more present in our lives than we realize?