Wood Thrush

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Annika Bentley

7:01

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The sun we see is a golden ring
Marries the breeze to our skin
The lay of our lives, the lay of the land
The lie of my head in the palm of your hand

The sound of the wood is shaking in me, the sound of the wood is in me

The restless body is a ghost we leave 
For the clutch of the earth, its cosmos of seeds
An ovenbird, a jam jar, terrarium gold
The forest is blushing, the flush of my throat

The sound of the wood is shaking in me, the sound of the wood is in me

"The soul is a bride"

You and I are the loam, you and I are the floor
You and I are the thread trailing thin through ether, moss, and core

 Become A Better Singer In Only 30 Days, With Easy Video Lessons!