How shall I survive, if when I wend my way through
my local fields and woods they are no longer there?
What, no blackberries to refresh me on my walks ..
no hidden cowslips to delight me? And the shy
violets still lift up their heads to remind me how
delicate and beautiful they are. And what would
the squirrels do without their hazelnuts? Oh yes,
they raid the gardens and annoy the birds by eating
their hanging supplies, but they need nuts to bury
and find again when all else disappears.
And there stands the quiet heron, guarding its pool
or river fish, so still that I scarcely notice it. While
the kingfisher’s flash of brilliant vermillion and azure
blue catches the corner of my eye, illuminating my
senses, as I wait for it to appear once again.
Then there’s the song of nightingales, whose song
made me weep one evening far away when I first
heard its evening love song. While the larks soar
so high as they sing, to remind me that there is
music for the soul if we will look for it. And as
they sing their songs of worship, so can we.