My name is Dave Liversidge. Lincoln Green resident, musician, poet, alcoholic and pain in the butt.

I wrote this poem to thank the leader of our local walking group.

We have no fields of gold here
no oak of stout bough.
No fern, or bracken,
just trampled flowers.
No secretive wildlife
like crickets and frogs.
No quicksilver squirrels
just half-starved dogs.

Wildlife in Lincoln Green

And pigeons,
which rule over all other birds,
why would the lark sing here
it could never be heard?
Because the towers we live in
blot out even the sun
and the fumes from tin boxes
choke life before it's begun.
But can't you see that
nature's integral,
a part of who we are,
we need to live and be near it,
not just admire from afar.
We have to feel the
world around us
and not just what
man's made
because when
emulating nature he
invariably fails.