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