On My Flights

On my flights of fancy i hear the Claramore Rill With a crystal clear tongue that is never still Babbling in the fields from it's source by the hill Towards the ocean bound rivers it flows with a will And on a beech tree near where Finnow does flow The harsh and loud cawing of a silver back crow In the fields where my love of Nature began to grow Yet so little about her i can claim for to know Yet of Nature we learn something new every day And you never stop learning though time has left you gray The know all knows nothing as the wise one does say In life we never stop learning it does seem this way We get to know birds by their chirping or song Some of them from once heard you never again get wrong All life forms including us humans to Nature belong Though with many of us our bond to her is not that strong And though for the what used to be i have shed my last tears On my flights of fancy i go back the years And the babble of the Claramore Rill i do hear And though in distance far to me me it does sound near.