Hermit Thrush - Montana

You’ll hardly ever see one.
You’ll be lucky if you do.
They hide in the trees
And sing, sing, sing.

They sing in the rain.
In the sun.
Always singing.
You just have to listen.

If the world was ending
They wouldn’t know.
Instead, they’d sit on that branch
And sing that innocent song I know.

Sometimes I think they sing
Just to make us happy,
To let us know
That in the end, it will be okay.

So, when you go outside,
Listen, listen, listen,
They are singing to you their flute like song.
The song of the hermit thrush.

-Cody, from the CDT in Montana