If there is no home for natureThere will be no evening starling chatter,Nor swifts left to soar.There will be no hedgehogs nestled in your garden,No woodlands to explore.Spring will pass without a bluebell,And June without a bee.Butterflies will flounder without a flower,And the birds without a tree.If there’s no home for nature,The wonders on our doorstep will diappear.There will be no place to play,No meadows. No moorlands. No wilderness. No adventure.If there’s no home for nature,There will be no nature.
This poem was printed in the Guardian last week, and struck me to the core, the last couplet ringing in my ears long after I had read it.