A poem – Extinction

We trod the path through fields of grass
And heard the lonely curlews mournful cry
Extinction circled round her hidden nest,
The grass was cut in early June, so she
Had not the time to raise her precious brood.

She fled as eggs and chicks were crushed, and so
The grisly cycle turns, the bloody field,
A killing space stained red with wasted life,
The skies mourn silence for her loss, we turn
Away, and weep with helplessness.

Some lines written about Hogshaw

It was the coldest day of the year
But we heeded the call and came
From far and near
With our signs and our songs
and our hope,
Our memories embracing
Our love for the land;
Of birdsong at day break in spring,
Or watching swifts rise on evening air,
Of the heron poised on the brook,
The dipper spotted bobbing on rocks,
The screech of the owls,
The vixens cry entangled with fox.

All these memories, we will not lose,
For someone’s profit and greed,

But we came when called
And we heeded the cry
And we will not turn back
And we will not back down.
We will not lose our wood and our field,
Where first we held hands
Or built our first dens,
Picnics on rugs,
Sleepovers in tents.
Virgin footprints on snow,
Building snowmen with friends,
Sticks and ball with the dog,
It’s our Wembley, our garden,
Our place of retreat.

We will not turn back
And we will not back down
We will save our place, our space,
We will save our green, our pleasant land.