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!