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Song of the Thrush
Oh mirror of my soul where have you gone,
now that the forest wind has set you free?
Days grown long, yet the same sun tumbles on,
as a quiet Song thrush sings back to me.
Radio croons a song, in silky drawl..
of latticed roses in proper pink dress.
Meadow melody sung in summer squall,
and life's mystery left only to guess.
Show kindness to gentle things of beauty,
keep elbows clear o' the cherry table.
As shower in clear rain's cherished duty,
water love's garden long as I'm able.
Perhaps a time will come in our story,
where night touches sun in moonlight's glory.
Copyright ©
Quoth Theraven
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