Whitman’s Thrush

THIRD rock from the sun, zoomed in on wetlands,
SLIMY, ooze and muck richly specied.
SUNNY days, binoculars out, this kingdom might be
AVIAN: kingfishers dive, while Whitman’s thrush warbles.

Excerpt from Whitman’s When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d:

From Whitman's poem: "In the swamp in the secluded recesses, a shy and hidden bird is warbling a song. Solitary the thrush, The hermit withdrawn to himself, avoiding the settlements, Sings by himself a song. Song of the bleeding throat, Death's outlet song of life, (for well dear brother I know, If though wast not granted to sing thou would'st surely die.)
Excerpt from Whitman’s When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d

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