Birdsong by Rosie Adamson-Clark


Birdsong purer, louder, longer,

as the throng of traffic

has now died


in the distance a call

of a cuckoo,

early bird

catching a worm,

no man to intrude

on natures home,

land greener, grass longer,

sunshine stronger

with pollution dip,

man reaches inwards

to protect his home,

all threats to nature gone,


can you hear it ?