Huntley

October 23, 2011 10:04 – 10:04

Here are the lyrics to one of the songs I sang yesterday at Frog Pond Early Learning Center‘s fall festival. It’s my tribute to one of my favorite places on earth—Huntley Meadows.

Huntley ©2002 by Herb Tyson

As I walk through the trees,

A distant lark sings,

Keeping time to the rhythm

The woodpecker brings.

 

And there up above,

Colors flash by,

Yellow and red

Against a blue sky.

 

An a old fallen tree

Here joins the earth,

Melts into the ground,

And is given rebirth.

 

A rustle of leaves,

A crunch in the brush.

I feel my breath stop,

And I hear myself hush.

 

They call it a meadow,

But it’s really a forest,

But it’s really a wetland

But it’s really a haven for life.

 

It’s a real-life recording,

Of nature in sound,

Of nature in smell,

And colors abounding,

And it’s really a heaven on earth.

 

On hot days in summer,

When sidewalk eggs fry.

My mind glances upwards

And I think that I

 

Would be cooler in Huntley

By many degrees,

Under an umbrella,

Of cool green leaves.

 

The buzzing of bumblebees,

Ants marching by.

Swallows catching mosquitoes

A fawn that says “Hi!”

 

Back in the swamp,

There’s whistling spree,

A million tiny frogs,

Sing in symphony.

 

They call it a meadow,

But it’s really a forest,

But it’s really a wetland

But it’s really a haven for life.

 

It’s a real-life recording,

Of nature in sound,

Of nature in smell,

And colors abounding,

And it’s really a heaven on earth.

 

Leaves turned to yellow,

Orange, red and brown.

Frantically swirling,

Make their way to the ground.

 

A fawn’s spots now fading,

The underbrush dies,

A chorus of crows,

Against the blue sky.

 

The water is bulging

As beaver flow by,

Hauling their harvest

And I think that I

 

Sense a change in the air,

As autumn turns to go,

Deer coats turn to gray,

There’s a fresh fallen snow.

 

They call it a meadow,

But it’s really a forest,

But it’s really a wetland

But it’s really a haven for life.

 

It’s a real-life recording,

Of nature in sound,

Of nature in smell,

And colors abounding,

And it’s really a heaven on earth.

 

Footprints in the snow,

Tracks on the ice,

Reveal even in the cold,

There’s still so much life.

 

Footpaths once too wet,

Now hardened by cold,

Invite you in further,

If you are bold.

 

Tiny buds at the tips

Of every tree.

Ache to unfold

And yearn to be.

 

And the Canada goose,

Now takes to the air,

Pollywogs in the water say,

Spring will soon be there.

 

They call it a meadow,

But it’s really a forest,

But it’s really a wetland

But it’s really a haven for life.

 

It’s a real-life recording,

Of nature in sound,

Of nature in smell,

And colors abounding,

And it’s really a heaven on earth.

Huntley Meadows is heaven on earth.

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