From my deck I see the peaks of blue, with ancient fields of white,
and down below, the valley meets the bay that's gone each night.

The mighty flocks of geese and swans return in autumn of each year,
to feast upon the valley's grain and swim the bay that's near,

Before my birth, and once I'm gone, this dance repeats each time,
the herons nest, the ospreys cry, on wings the eagles climb,

The shorebirds rise in flocks of white like a beacon to my eye,
they flit and land until again they burst into the sky,

The song of red-winged blackbirds is peaceful to my ear,
as they go about their harried lives in the wetland that is here,

In the pasture feeding starlings in the hundreds lift to flight,
they swarm and fly above me, rustling wings my hearts delight,

I cannot know what blocks the soul of those who cannot see,
the sights and sounds of nature without whom I would not be.