April In A Southern Town

An April day in a southern Parkland four months from the Southern Spring
On a sunlit black-wood wattle a male gray backed magpie sing
His all too familiar music beautiful flute like and clear
He is the silver billed Australian who sings the twelve months of the year.

Pleasant and sunny the weather into the sixth week of the Southern Fall
The voices of the magpie larks familiar pee wee pee wee they do call
And the dying leaves on the claret ash are turning a deep reddish brown
How nice to walk through the green Parkland of the sunny Southern Town

Of singing of Nature's praises one could never ever tire
In the beauty of her changing Seasons artists and writers she inspire
To sketch and paint and to write poetry as well as pen stories and rhyme
Of the World's only known immortal the one who is older than time.

A beautiful day in mid Autumn with only a slight touch of breeze
In the Town-park the leaves turning brown and dark yellow upon the deciduous trees
White butterflies dance in the sunshine of April in the Southern Fall
A beautiful memory to cherish and in retrospect for to recall.