the thrush rushed
on the cusp of trust
it must crush
that which swells inside
the callow swallow (eye rhyme :p)
with disregard seemed shallow
but in truth was impelled to hide
in the brush they’d follow
no matter how hollow
the understory and confide
they’d dither and wither
while within them slither
deepest darkest desires
then soar from the wail
of the nightingale
leaving a trail of feathers
to sail with their secrets
on the wind behind
~freeverse, rapid write, quick brain dump
