Anuran

How I wish I lived until
I’d hear beyond my windowsill
A bluebell-banded burble-rill.

Silver birches, dappled spill,
Mossy logs cross warty swill,
By crag and copse a throaty thrill.

Yet life is for the living still,
And I’m not blessed by Nature’s will,
And so I sit, and look uphill.