Tag: thrush

The Hopes of Every Soul


A mistle thrush

Was singing


As if all the world

Were ringing


With the hopes

Of every soul


The year

Was at its ending


But the light was growing




Which could never wrestle





Mistle thrush

Blessed Company

Thrush hurls her song

in curls and spirals and dead straight lines


The trees stand as still as time

The hills look down benignly


The wind converses enigmatically

The river merely suggests itself so quietly


Even the buttercups

Nod their heads with glee –


I feel I am among

such blessed company.

Blessed Company FWTS