Far From The Streets

Far from the noisy traffic of the street In the wood near where the creek and river meet In feathers of light brown and palish gray The bird known as gray shrike thrush is whistling today Bird in busy town never heard or seen He lives where the World is quiet and green Searching for slugs and flies and bees At home in the place of many trees Known best for the beautiful flute like song That to his kind only belong His type never does venture far and wide Beyond the quiet treed countryside Far from the streets of the noisy town He is whistling as the sun goes down.