Thrush

 

A thrush steps through the fallen leaves

With gracefulness and care,

Then stops to cast a dreamy glance

And shyly lingers there.

Her breast's adorned with misty spots

That fade from taupe to buff –

She flies up to an aspen's branch

To call her "chuff", "chuff", "chuff"...

November 2020

(from the book Longing For The Light by Doris Potter)

© Doris Potter