SONG THRUSH
As if suddenly there were no other sound,
as if the pleasure boats’ diesel engines,
and the odd raucous call from mallard or gull,
and the laughing chatter of humankind
were, like the weir, merely distant murmurings,
on the opposite bank of the river
more than fifty yards away, where snails abound
in the damp dark beneath the foliage,
a thrush begins its song. It cuts notes like
diamonds, a crystal aria, subduing
the air itself, on this summer solstice.
Exiled from denatured fields and hedgerows,
almost forgotten minstrel, rare diva
now, how we have missed you!
Kira Somach
July 18, 2025Just love, love, love this, David. It’s the perfect seasonal compliment to ‘The Darkling Thrush’ – https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44325/the-darkling-thrush – one of my favourites.
David Selzer
July 18, 2025Thank you so much, Kira. I had hoped readers would think of Hardy’s poem, which is one of my favourites too.