Glass Avenue

I walk alone along Glass Avenue
As dawn is breaking on an early Spring morning.

A place of happy childhood memories
Frequently traversed in early boyhood
Accompanied by boyhood friends
On the way to hunt the rabbit and the hare.

A beautiful morning. Sun shining,
Morning mist glinting like jewels
On stems of lush green grass.
Blue violets, yellow primrose, bluebells
Awakening from their Winter slumber
By a gentle blowing breeze.
Quietness and tranquillity prevail.

Then I heard the wren,
Unseen in a white hawthorn bush
Singing its joyful song.
Sing on little bird,
Join in the chorus
Of the bigger birds.

Keep walking, retrieving fond memories,
Reliving those times
Of a gentle, brave, and homely people,
Sadly many no longer with us,
Now gone to their eternal reward.

Keep singing little bird,
For all too soon
Man the predator, and the politician,
If unchallenged, will destroy you,
Glass Avenue,
And all of Gods’ beautiful creation,
Planet Earth.

Michael Brennan | 15th May 2004