A fucking mess, to edit later

thrushes nest in laurel never crying "daphne", "daphne"
the wind shakes them off
branches breaking in the storm
River god reclaiming leaves
her sun drenched
tear soaked skin
Thrushed fly to new shelters
Gods forget, move on, chase other maids
wreathe them like olympians with leaves
As though they've won
fly with the winds
And leave them with their prizes turning gold
Like brittle coins
faerie treasure
Crumbling in the wind,
withered economics of caprice
beauty without memory
The sighing dream, wet dried by morning
Why shouldn't they cheat, who've never regretted becoming a tree
Why shouldn't we let them
Who've never regretted envying
The stupid thrush, the careless fae,
The river...
Let them sell us charms of change
Or autumn gold or potions of youth
If we'll buy them with our last white cow