I walked the path, glowing in the sunlight,

trees leaning over dappling the way ahead,

I walked where others had walked on the

sun warmed stones pebbling the path.

—

I walked where thousands of others went,

and listened to the warble of the blackbird

watched the robin dance along the way

keeping watch, as centuries of birds had done.

—

I breathed air that had filled ancestors’ lungs,

and felt it energise my stride through pungent, 

sweet, garlic smelling woodlands; as those

who had plucked it and lived here, long ago.

—

I walked on with joy abandoned as I saw

signs of sick trees, sewage in the streams,

flood strewn banks, silence that shouted 

no bees, few insects, so few, so few birds.

—

As a child I recalled the sight and sound,

nature had me spellbound in its bounty,

Bees were everywhere, predatory flies,

partridges in fields – too many to count.

—

Who, one day will walk where I walked?

Delighted by sights, songs and smells?

Will it be ravaged by greenhouse gases

and be a burning, barren desert instead.