On The Powerlines On The Roadside

Just a week from the start of the winter and more than three months from the Spring Yet on the powerlines on the roadside I hear a male goldfinch sing In the last days of the Autumn on this sunny morning in May His kin birds now sing in woods and on hedgerows in the Northlands far away. His song could not be mistaken I heard it when I was a boy Far away in a green wood land when dawn was brightening the sky Male goldfinch whistled his finest in the green wood by the lea He was defending his borders and proclaiming his territory. The sight of the beautiful bird on the powerlines took me to another Land You who have never been migrants perhaps could not understand How the distinct song of a goldfinch could cause nostalgia to wake Just a brief yearning for what was a yearning now without ache. Our past we cannot recover as our past forever is gone But the fond memories of what was in our hearts still living on The small song bird on the powerlines in his song carried me back To that old town by the river and to the old mountain track. I was one raised close to Nature Mother Nature the Goddess in green Wood pigeons cooing in the mornings in the leafy groves of Dereen, Skylark flew up from the rushes carolling as he did fly Upwards and upwards ascending till he became a small speck in the sky. Goldfinches sang on the hedgerows and chaffinch's song I knew well All of the birds by my old home just by their songs I could tell, Robin and song thrush and blackbird in the woods heralded the Spring They are the children of Nature and Nature's a beautiful thing. On the powerlines on the roadside I know to whom that voice belong In the sun shine of the late Fall goldfinch is in the mood for song, Nostalgia in me is stirring and I hear the rippling rill Flowing along towards the river down the high field by the hill.