In the quiet dawn of '70, beneath the boundless sky,
Where birds once soared in numbers, beneath the sun so high.
A silence has descended, where songs once filled the air,
Thirty percent have vanished, leaving emptiness to bear.

Habitats once lush and wild, forests deep and grand,
Have dwindled under human touch, across this sprawling land.
Meadows, marshes, woods, and streams, homes to winged delight,
Now bare, transformed, or lost, a sorrowful, fading sight.

More people, fewer birds, a truth we cannot hide,
Our footprint grows, the earth it groans, in this selfish stride.
Nests abandoned, echoes fade, in skies once vibrant and alive,
A testament to what's at stake, for those who still survive.

Yet, in this tale of loss and woe, a glimmer yet remains,
A chance to change, to heal, to grow, to break these binding chains.
To restore the balance, plant the seed, of a future bright and fair,
Where birdsong fills the morning light, a chorus in the air.

Let us heed the call of nature, with gentle, caring hands,
Rebuild the homes, preserve the wild, across these precious lands.
For in the harmony of life, where diversity is key,
Lies the beauty of our world, in its soaring melody.

March 5, 2024
Created by
MarkWaldrop