Hermit Thrush...

Hermit Thrush sticks to the shadows. When he steps out, it's to remind us that the ghostly voice coming down from the trees truly does belong to a living thing; that yes, he does exist. Mortal or immortal, he doesn't say, and I don't press. Then back to the shadows he goes, perhaps deeper this time, to that mysterious realm where the songs of all thrush kin are born.