Song Thrush

That thrush so high up on the tree, does it sing for you or me? Its trills I hear with such delight even though it's not in sight. Then it's quiet. I peer and stare. Has it flown? I wonder where? And now it's on a neighbours' tree. Is it's song for them or me? Over the fence its song proclaims worms and snails are mine to claim. It's singing not for you or me, yet from snails it sets us free. Confined by virus week by week, isolation may feel bleak. Yet while it's quiet we can hear sounds of nature far and near. For each of us till fading light thrush's song does us unite.