I rise with the parrots in the trees.
My call goes out on the southern breeze.

This is the world that Nature made,
Among the trees, a sunny glade.
Here we may speak of what we love,
The grassy earth, the sky above.
No one shall tell us that this is wrong
For 'tis ordained, and in our song.
Many have passed along this way
And so have we, but did not stay.
For this is knowledge of present and past,
It comes to us, but will not last.
Outside this glade are others met
Who do not know, or would forget.
Hurrying they heed another call
And dying daily, live not at all.
Oh do not wake them while they sleep,
But live to love, and not to weep.

5 March 2017