The birds don’t know what’s going on,
They fly about, both high and low,
Undeterred, chorusing songs,
The blackbird, sparrows and even the crow.
The music builds up in the bluest of skies,
Look outside and watch the show –
of all the bees and the butterflies,
As the plants and trees begin to grow.
The marigolds raise their orange heads,
And, in the breeze their petals blow,
Close to primulas, as they start to spread,
Just like the birds, they don’t know.
Gaze at the trees and the greenest of buds,
If you think the days are going slow,
Enjoy bedding plants, just been plugged,
Along with the birds, they don’t know.
The babes in arms, still feed and sleep,
Then smile at the world and say hello,
To every new day, which is unique,
Safe and untroubled, they don’t know.
The air is fresh, with no petrol fumes,
The rivers run deep, fish swim below,
The hedgerows alive with new spring blooms,
For just like the birds, they don’t know.
When it comes to an end, and you tell the tale,
How you felt your life had reached a plateau,
Rejoice in the fact, as we all prevailed,
Nature responded, like it didn’t know!
Lorraine Weightman
