When the final curtain falls on that loud harmonious melodic dawn chorus,
Is it our greed on resources that empty the draining rivers, or do we just think their bedrock is porous?
A startling squawk from the crow, the fox barks to attract its mate.
Is there time to save this orchestra of so many instruments or is it too late.
We destroy their homes, invade their territory, their populations dive and that’s a fact.
Can their music open our deaf ears to appeal to our senses, what will prompt us to act?
Loud is their natural music as they sing, call, trumpet, croak, and roar to one another.
In the dialogue of the wild their conversation pleads to us, such as a child’s cry to a mother.
But is there time for one more movement, even the joys another symphony will bring?
Or do we now put down the baton, fold the score to wait for the new sound of a silent spring?