a poem by Phillip Joseph Hussey, UK

Oh to be where the rivers run
Guilded by the glow of the setting sun
Watching the fishermen hauling their nets
As the sinking sun turns red as it sets
Silhouettes of birds flying home to rest
Their shrill cries echoe towards the west
A kingfisher hovers for his last day's catch
His dive so perfect, none can match
In the distance the coos of a turtle dove
Mingled with the sounds of the wild I love
The swaying reeds whistling in the wind
The bishops warbling refuse to rescind
Their ceaseless quarrels over territory
The sun gives a last burst of glory
Igniting everything in mellow gold
A go-away cries from a msasa tree so bold
Then sudden darkness eclipses the light
The day is done, now comes the night
This is where my heart belongs
In this ancient land of night bird songs

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