Little bird calling my name. Why is it do you complain? My little belly growls of hunger.
Come with me little one. For your sadness pierces my heart.
Oh indeed, this is not good, Tattle-tail replies.
The land is flooding over it may be our demise.
Softly I remind Tattle of a promise made long ago. The promise of the inspiring rainbow. Tattle asserts this is much different.
It may not be that the flood destroys us.
However the death of the wisest in the land could very well be our demise in the end.
For to have no wisdom is a loss more than I can bear. I cannot imagine a land without thought to share.
Hence, at that moment I knew exactly what Tattle was trying to say.
Tattle lead, I am at your wing. Take me to the Great Willow, I understand what you sing.
The tears of the great Willow could flood cosmic valleys. If she is hurt or upset, we must come to her rally. Tattle fluttered and led without haste. Her beak rattling on, not missing a pace,
For whence does the Willow cry?
Wishing I knew the answer I simply reply, We must go on, for there is no time waste.
As we drew near, my eyes were drawn to the water. Willow was sharing her wisdom even in her sorrow. Illuminating the brilliance of Autumn and ringing clear as a bell. Each tear a different color like leaves of the fall could be swept where they fell.
Though Willow was in anguish her heart flooded for those she loves as seen in her message:
No need to worry of the flood. For it is the birds in the sky and the life in the sea, each tear, I cry.
No words have ever touched my heart more than the selfless tears the Willow cries.
However, upon hearing this news, poor Tattle nearly lost her feathers. Floundering in the sky like a fish out of water. Shrieking in panic and tattling to the skies.
We are in danger!
Pack up your nests!
We are all going to die!
When Tattle finally was close enough, gently I pinched her beak shut. A reminder “loose beak never speaks” A silent reference to the past. She looked at me with such a pitiful face, I nearly felt guilty for scrunching it out-of-place.
However the reminder got into her feather-brain as clearly as a shade had been lifted. When I let go of her beak, she just couldn’t help but to utter just a few more words. Under her breath she just had to speak,
It wasn’t my fault, anyone in my place would have thought the sky was falling!
Bye the way (she just had to go on)
I still do not think my name had to be changed and why must my past always come back to haunt me?…… on and on she went……
Once more I reached to snap shut her beak. But she shut it for me as she flew out of my reach. Both Willow and I got a chuckle, which angered Tattle more. But at least it got her mind off of death as she began to soar.
Great Willow lowered a branch, providing a refuge for me. I sat in her branches to ask why so many tears were shed?
Her leaves replaced by her tears. Her tears the color of the fall. She looked more beautiful than any day I can recall. Though her heart bled with each tear. A hue of raindrops falling down. A dewy Autumn Flood. Willow tears cascading all around. So saddened was I to see such tears. Yet stunned at such selflessness, I wrapped her in a hug.
Poor sweet Willow what can I do. To help in your time of need?
She said to look up high into her branches. I would find all I need to know. Looking up, I was appalled for what my eye did see. Within her upper branches were more webs than tree! Filled with thousands of hungry worms. They feasted upon her leaves. The cause of her agony. I kindly asked the worms to leave. For clearly they had their fill but they refused to leave. Willow is large enough to feed even after her death if need be.
I said yes, but Willow is old and great is her wisdom. If they did not stop feeding on her, she would soon die, her presence no longer gracing the kingdom. Her wisdom no longer shared with us all. From all that is great and mighty to all the is vile and small. I said while looking at them.
I suggested the young forest. Hundreds of trees could feed them and survive. Guilty I felt for my suggestion, as I saw the forest shiver from my third eye.
The worms were selfish refusing to leave not caring who would die. Instead preferring to be lazy. They fed out of greed instead of need.
Making the great willow shake with tears. Colorful rustling cascade, the most ornate of waterfalls. I bowed my head and began to pray. Willow wrapped me in a hug. Her other branches became great wings and she began to fly.
The webs began shaking as Willow took flight with the Divine. The lowly worms cried and shrieked, for they were afraid to fly. Colorful Autumn tears replaced by an ugly storm of worms. Out of the hardship of the great willow, a miraculous wonder occurred. History repeats itself with the cleansing of the earth. A flood of selfish worms providing a feast for all in the sea. And for every little bird great fulfillment, indeed.
One special little bird, now with a great big tummy, shall no longer be the “tattle-tail”. Thus we have the true legend of the Mockingbird. The sweet little bird who touches us all with glorious music to please us all.