July By The Mountains

In fancy it comes wafting to me in the breeze the sweet scent of hay
In the fields by the mountains from here far away
When the little brown lark is singing as he fly
A musical speck in the gray of the sky

The sun it is hidden behind clouds of gray
Though the warmth of Summer it is in the day
Good haymaking weather quite breezy and dry
And pleasant enough conditions for early July

In a leafy grove to my thoughts ever near
A migratory nest parasite of the Summer of the year
The voice of the cuckoo i fancy i hear
A bird named for it's song which seems obviously clear

The marvels of Nature an amazing thing
The dark barn swallows chasing flying insects on the wing
Birds the artists and writers in their sketching and words celebrate
On mid to late Fall to warmer Lands they do migrate

When Nature at her very finest is seen
And everywhere is looking so lush and so green
And wafting in the breeze the sweet aroma of hay
In July by the mountains from here far away.