The Wood Thrush Is Not Cheery

It's dusk, almost an hour from sunset and the wood thrush is not cheery; his melody is a whisper heard in a lot, where he sang with others happily! The wood thrust with auburn wings and round belly couldn't find a stream in a nearby forest and fled fled here to drink from the water fountain color grey brushed by a sudden darkness that spread dread! Sing out loud, little wood thrush and uplift my low spirit; evening is approaching quickly with its turbid shadows, we'll shiver thinking of the fear so frightening to admit... oh, wait: we can alter the mood of our dreary thoughts! I'm wondering why the wood thrush is not cheery, has he lost all the enthusiasm for unclear reasons? It's a phase he must go though to regain full harmony... when despair leaves and he'll sing again with his sibilings!