Curlew calls

Curlews no more  
stalk the estuary  
winter  gone.  
I hear but one cuckoo  
and summer is here,  
When I hear him no more  
summer will fade again,  
autumn slipping silent by,  
blackbirds heralding  
shortening days as  
crows assembling in pines  
sing a raucous roundelay  
to rutting stags and  
waiting doe as foxes  
seek rabbits in untidy  
honeysuckle hedges  
bright with berries and  
black with bramble beneath  
crabs and thorny sloe.  
Yellow tinges in the leaves  
as ash and aspen moult,  
while oaks stand green  
until November gales discard  
orange leaves and red,  
Acorns fall and squirrels  
stock their larders  
as curlews call.