A Memory

In my flights of fancy i often do hear
The male snipe o'er the bog in the Spring of the year
With his whirring wings he makes a drumming sound
As in the night sky he flies around and around
Flying all night above his breeding territory
His mate sits on her eggs quiet and secretive is she
The mysteries and beauty of Nature is a thing to enjoy
And I've loved our Earth Mother since i was a boy
And i do recall the bird without a song
Who with his wings drummed o'er the bog all night long
There is far more to Nature than we can hear or see
And why he drums all night long still a mystery to me
Under the night sky o'er the bog far away
I fancy i hear him in the prime of the May.