The Blooming Glen

Awash with blooms of many hues

Through rare and sunny fen

The dance of seasons played throughout

In fragrant blooming glens.

Flickering cardinal wings in flight

Mother, father flew

To nestlings with their open mouths

Of honeysuckle hue.

The cries of catbirds, squirrels, and like,

An owl with talons drawn

Sweeping through on silent wing

In refuge before the dawn;

And so it was until the day

There came a demo due

With backhoes, trucks, big cranes and saws

To cleave the whole in two,

Until the sounds of life were stilled,

To wait another crew,

To build a bigger, better box

To house the newer new.

And so it goes, the trees, the homes,

Where beauty largely loomed,

In gardens housing great and small

When, like the glen, they bloomed