On a circular walk, along three paths in varying light and each leading into the other,
trees around and above as both filter and canopy,
a pause to watch a young thrush on a fallen tree,
at least till it spotted me staring at it
in that bad-mannered way unique to humans.
"Then all the trees of the forest will sing for joy, they will sing before the Lord…" (Psalm 96.12)
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