For the past several days I have been woken up by a mockingbird right outside my bedroom window.  He starts at the crack of dawn, loudly singing all of his different songs.  The first morning he did this I was irritated by his vocal abilities hounding my ears as I tried to go back to sleep.  Then came day two.  He was back, singing his songs as loud as he could as the sun was prepping to do it’s job for the day.  This time I laid in bed, listening then giggling.  I tried to figure out if there was any rhyme or reason to his songs.  A pattern perhaps?  Nope, he was all over the place and it brought me joy to lay there listening to him.  He was doing what he’s supposed to do and it put me in a good mood to get up and do what I do.  I found myself excited to go to bed the next night.  I couldn’t wait to arise to his special songs.   I woke up the next morning on my own at the time he would normally start.  He wasn’t there.  I was so sad.  I still wake up at my new time every morning thanks to that mockingbird and it’s been good for me to get up a little earlier.   When I’m not rushed the coffee tastes better, the news is easier to read and I have more time to spend with my doggie.  I’m always hopeful that he will return to my window one morning and sing me his songs again.  If he does? I’ll be awake and ready to hear him.