In the morning  I would  hear their cry

The geese which I  once loved no longer fly
In their unique  geometry  so fine
Above the school fields  through the empty sky

Some locals think that “immigrants” came by
Trapped the geese and ate them with dark wine
The geese which I  once loved no longer fly

In the morning  I would  hear their cry
Heading South in that great V shaped sign
Above the school fields  through the empty sky

Onto  this  water, London’s first supply
The river here flows down the contour lines
But the geese which I  once loved no longer fly

In  the muddles of suburbia, we find
Conserved places lingering,  benign;
Like the  old school fields  below the empty sky

Never must we humans be resigned
To living where there is no hint divine
The geese which I  once loved no longer fly
But the school fields  house wild birds  beneath this sky