A Day In July
The currawongs on the gums piping and dark rain clouds darken the sky
And a gray fog cloaks the wooded hillside on this Winter's day in July
And a lone raven caws on the drenched wattle and every where looks rather gray
Yet Spring with each day is approaching and towards the hills she wings her way.
The reservoirs are slowly filling and the flood is bank high in the drains
But with the weather people happy they welcome the drought breaking rains
No need now for water restrictions and it could be a beautiful Spring
And soon in the woods of old Sherbrooke the birds will build their nests and sing.
When I am long gone from this World the Seasons they will come and go
And the children of the next generation will hear the hoarse caw of the crow
And the young girl will run to her mother and in her excitement will say
Look mum at the crimson rosellas on the gum twenty metres away.
Were I a poet I would write of the Seasons of Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall
And the beauty I have seen in Nature in my verses I would recall
But I'm just an ordinary fellow the rhymester of a lesser god
Perhaps one not worth criticizing my rhymes do look rather slip shod.
A day in July it is raining and the gray fog cloaks the wooded hill
Yet the breeze one might say is quite timid and the air has a wintery chill
And Spring towards the south slowly winging and September not that far away
And the butcherbird soon will be nesting and piping to herald the day.
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