The currawongs on the gums piping and dark rain clouds darken the sky <br />And a gray fog cloaks the wooded hillside on this Winter's day in July <br />And a lone raven caws on the drenched wattle and every where looks rather gray <br />Yet Spring with each day is approaching and towards the hills she wings her way. <br /> <br />The reservoirs are slowly filling and the flood is bank high in the drains <br />But with the weather people happy they welcome the drought breaking rains <br />No need now for water restrictions and it could be a beautiful Spring <br />And soon in the woods of old Sherbrooke the birds will build their nests and sing. <br /> <br />When I am long gone from this World the Seasons they will come and go <br />And the children of the next generation will hear the hoarse caw of the crow <br />And the young girl will run to her mother and in her excitement will say <br />Look mum at the crimson rosellas on the gum twenty metres away. <br /> <br />Were I a poet I would write of the Seasons of Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall <br />And the beauty I have seen in Nature in my verses I would recall <br />But I'm just an ordinary fellow the rhymester of a lesser god <br />Perhaps one not worth criticizing my rhymes do look rather slip shod. <br /> <br />A day in July it is raining and the gray fog cloaks the wooded hill <br />Yet the breeze one might say is quite timid and the air has a wintery chill <br />And Spring towards the south slowly winging and September not that far away <br />And the butcherbird soon will be nesting and piping to herald the day.<br /><br />Francis Duggan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-day-in-july/
