Kenmare Thrush Poem by Una Woods
Kenmare Thrush
The fragile thrush
prickling with existence
dusk's camouflage, a silent glow-worm
spreads on the damp grass
from unearthly still to little startled hops
then as if by a trick of the third eye the thrush has flown and
imperceptibly darkness is there
for a moment the immensity of things sits frozen then observation, the resort of human dwelling
moves away from the window
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5/23/2024 2:36:31 PM # 1.0.0.1119
We have song thrushes at my local lake, and they sing too but people don't hear.