Surveys the fields, a silent dream.
The fox's brush, a russet flash,
Across the moor, a fleeting dash.
The whispering reeds, the river's flow,
Where otters play, in shadows low.
The ancient trees, their branches high,
Where owls take flight beneath the sky.
These creatures wild, a tapestry,
Woven with threads of mystery.
Each tiny bloom, each soaring bird,
A vibrant song, a life conferred.
They hold the balance, fragile, fine,
A web of life, a sacred shrine.
The air we breathe, the water clear,
Depend on them, year after year.
To lose them now, a grievous cost,
A heritage forever lost.
Their silent screams, a fading call,
A warning whispered, lest we fall.
So let us strive, with hearts ablaze,
To guard their world, in countless ways.
For in their lives, our own reside,
A mirrored truth, we can't hide.