The Trush
My friend the thrush with speckled throat
he sits in a cave in the bush
that grows just outside my window.
This is the room that I work in
Surrounded by my computers
He has come this day of my gloom
and he cocks his head and chirrups
and the world’s a better place.
Thinks, what is a mass in the lung between friends?
I have lived, sometimes too well
and now, perhaps, I have to pay
c’est la vie as the actress said
when caught with the Bishop in bed
This is my world and I can share
with my friend the thrush who looks in
He bobs his head in thanks, I guess
for berries past and those to come
He has just a knowing air
as he eats just one more berry
and then another they are so good
He throws back his head and sings
a hymn of thanks
for life, his mate and by the way
The berries were delicious!
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