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.