Notes from the garden – A chance encounter

At once a voice arose amongThe bleak twigs overheadIn a full-hearted evensongOf joy illimited;An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,In blast-beruffled plume,Had chosen thus to fling his soulUpon the growing gloom from The Darkling Thrush by Thomas Hardy Under the glowering sky my boots heavy with mud sunk into the sodden ground, relentlessly battered by … More Notes from the garden – A chance encounter