Was this always a landscape of contrasts?

The canal glides round the question, it flows,

country/town, farm/factory, muck and brass,

The waterway shrugs, maybe the lark knows.

Tell me, skylark, was it always this way?

From high, her bright reply soars on the breeze,

flood/drought, heath/rock, rain/fire, blue sky and grey,

I'm busy, she chirps, why not ask the trees?

Ash tree, graceful, wise, will you tell me, please?

She rattles seed keys, sways, pale and thin-skinned,

today / tomorrow, give no guarantees

my future's uncertain, best ask the wind.

East/West, North/South, wind roars/whispers. Heaven/Earth,

our differences unite in a cycle of eternal rebirth.