You make the skies go blue,
You make the birds all sing.

For year round their is just Spring,
Fields of green where bluebells are blossoming.

Woods so wide, long brooks babbling,
Fish swim free, geese all a gabbling.

When night falls so crickets may sing,
All shall sleep amongst the brambling.
Stuart V Cook
November 1995
Copyright Stuart V Cook 1997-2004