I don't talk to others of my boyhood experiences though sometimes in paper I do write them down <br />When I was a young lad of the fifties and by my old home near Millstreet Town <br />In mid May in green old Duhallow the hawthorns were cloaked in blooms white as snow <br />And in the rank grass by the hedgerows the male pheasants did cuck and crow.. <br /> <br />I learned to respect Mother Nature and the names of some of her wild creatures I got to know <br />The brown trout for flies they were jumping in pools where Finnow waters flow <br />And skylark above the rank rushes looked like a speck in the grey sky <br />His pleasant song one could hear plainly though out of sight the bird did fly. <br /> <br />The male chaffinch sang on the alder his partner on her nest nearby <br />Their young would be fully fledged by mid June and well able to fly by July <br />What I talk about to some doesn't seem important their interests one might say elsewhere <br />And such people could not tell you the difference between a rabbit and a hare. <br /> <br />I don't talk to others of my young years my stories them would not interest <br />I would not bore them with the story of how the blackbirds build their nest <br />Or of how the sparrows under the house eaves make their nests of feathers and hay <br />But if all were alike life would be boring and each to their own as they say. <br /> <br />I don't talk to others about Nature for talk of Nature would them only bore <br />They don't want to hear how in early Spring the swallows leave a distant shore <br />For to return to the place they were born in that does not interest them at all <br />So stories of my young years and Nature to others I do not recall.<br /><br />Francis Duggan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-don-t-talk-to-others/
