Hands clasped
& pressed
to breast-
bones,
we stood –
enraptured –
as Wood Thrush
dropped
each liquid note
down through
the trees’ canopy –
like hope,
like light –
then alit
upon the path
before us
& took
his unassuming
bow.
— C.Birde, 6/22
Wood Thrush Wood — A Poem
Nightjars & Damselflies 
There’s always a delightful lyricism to your poems!
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Oh, thank you so much — I truly appreciate your comment! How I “hear” words in my head — the rhythm of them — guides my writing. Thank you, again ☺️
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