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MY BROWN THRASHER
(Toxostoma rufum)




















SOMETIMES CALLED THE FRENCH MOCKINGBIRD

I had never seen a brown thrasher, she entered my domain in late May, 2004 and decided to build a nest in my wild rose bush!
I had a wonderful time watching her and her husband raise their two children
and needless to say, every experience I have with any new bird is an experience of a life-time

BUT OF COURSE NATURE BRINGS OUT THE BEST OF ALL MY WORLDS,
AND THAT IS POETRY!


MY BROWN THRASHER

Now tis fall,
Do I hear the sound of a brown thrasher?
He pours forth his soul in song
After being silent so long!

What is it?
Can he not sing a summer song?
They say that silence is golden
I agree
But I did wait for a song from thee!

But if he did sing his lovely songs
Would not the world know where his children was?
And predators from the air
Would sail on in and the thrasher
Would surely shed a tear

But oh, you did light up my yard with all that beauty
From afar,
The stately beauty of all that brown
Only you dear thrasher
A new love I’ve found for the color brown

Then you took your children and flew away
And still I say, tis fall dear thrasher
And me, I’m waiting for your return
My wild rose bush is empty now
An empty nest is all I’ve found
Please come on back,
I need some sound,

Bring her back, your wife so dear
And those two children, I watched you rear
Every day in my back yard
You were forever on guard
I watched those beautiful eyes follow me
From pillar to post

I am your friend dear thrasher,
Did you not find out, how longingly?
I watched you hunt?
I wanted to climb into that nest
And just give you and that wife some rest
But nature said no, so I just watched
and was your daily guest!

I prayed for you and watched them grow
Heaven did her job, and she did it well
Those children were pretty from head to toe
A  July morning, wings in the know
Minute to minute, day to day
Then all you guys  just flew away
And here I am all alone
Waiting for another spring to dawn
When brown will dominate my yard again!

But just remember dear thrasher
Tis Fall!

OGIGINAL POETRY BY MARY ALICE BOWLES
WEB PAGE DESIGNED BY: MARY ALICE BOWLES
















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©MARY ALICE BOWLES, 2004