Sunday, September 11, 2016

On My Flights Of Fancy I Go Back The Years

On my flights of fancy i hear the Claramore Rill
With a crystal clear tongue that is never still
Babbling in the fields from it's source by the hill
Towards the ocean bound rivers it flows with a will

And on a beech tree near where Finnow does flow
The harsh and loud cawing of a silver back crow
In the fields where my love of Nature began to grow
Yet so little about her i can claim for to know

Yet of Nature we learn something new every day
And you never stop learning though time has left you gray
The know all knows nothing as the wise one does say
In life we never stop learning it does seem this way

We get to know birds by their chirping or song
Some of them from once heard you never again get wrong
All life forms including us humans to Nature belong
Though with many of us our bond to her is not that strong

And though for the what used to be i have shed my last tears
On my flights of fancy i go back the years
And the babble of the Claramore Rill i do hear
And though in distance far to me me it does sound near.

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