Thrush Rondel

Thrush up in the hawthorn, singing

There above against the sky.

It was chance that I passed by,

Heard the living music ringing,

Saw the speckled braggart flinging

Wanton flourishes on high.


Thrush, up in the hawthorn singing,

There above, against the sky.

All enraptured see him clinging,

As the notes pour out and fly,

Vital, iterating, winging.


Thrush, up in the hawthorn, singing,

There, above, against the sky!


by Philip Dunkerley ©