Remnant of the streams.

                Remnants of the ponds.

                                Remnants of the marshes.

Remnants of the forests,

                Of times long gone.

We’re living in the remnants.

Bluebell woods and dormice,

                Badgers and owls.

No wolves,

                No bears

Or anything that growls.

Where have all the insects gone?

                Poisoned by pesticide everyone.

Will we ever learn?

                Will we ever learn?

A cycle so complex –

                Three billion years in the making.

Destroyed in a blink.

                There for the taking.

Colonies and herds,

                Flocks and swarms,

Heart-beats and breath.

                Eaten away,

                                Used and abused,

In games of profit and death.

Remnants of the forests,

                In civilisation’s sad song.

We’re living in the remnants

                Of times long gone.

A once wild isle

                Now tamed.

In the game of profit

                As progress is blamed.

Looking bereft,

Threadbare and forlorn.

Hoping for awakening

                The chance to be reborn.

Where have all the butterflies gone?

                Eaten by businessmen every one.

Will we ever learn?

                Will we ever learn?

                                Will we ever…?

Opher 15.3.2023

Watching Attenborough took me straight back to my youth, playing in the meadows, the ponds and streams, climbing trees. The newts and frogs, lizards, caterpillars, slowworms and snakes. The meadows were alive with the buzz and rustle of insects. The freshwater streams crystal clear and full of sticklebacks.

I return to those same haunts and they are silent now.

Makes me incredibly sad.

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