Springtime

SPEAK to me of birdsong,The unfolding and the magic of SpringOf baby new born lambs,And trees bearing much blossoming.

Far across the woodland way,

The cuckoo can be heard

Amidst the chorus of trills and songs

Of so many countryside birds.

Nature requires the work of bees,

To ensure the fruit will come

In autumn when their work has stopped

And honey from nectar is done.

With spring flowers in abundance

And rainfall along the way,

Downland walks and laughter of children

To delight many, many a day.

Barbara

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