July 27 2016 Song Thrush symphonies chirp and squeak the arrival of dusk, Their scores sounding to each other through the sable stillness. My childish cries for heartfelt comfort echo out into the night before me, Perking the ears and interests of shadows more hungry than friendly- And in those starless places, such shapes of shallow density Feed heartily on the circling nature of my birdsong insecurities. Reaching out for a hand to hold, I more often find claws than company. When abandoned in the dark, one must reach for the warm sunlight. ...or build a fire.
