Thrushold
The chick emerged at night
And left the shell behind
Caressed a nested warmth
Divined a sense of touch
A churning in the stomach
Whimpered out a chirping
Restless others bickered back
The rustling breezes blew
With such a sound device
The world was more defined
A leafy filter skewed the sun
In gradual delight,
The Chick, "What has begun?"
"Oh, you've never seen
This universal gift:
The gentle shade of green."
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