The bumblebees fly
Over to the meadow
When you ask them why
They say there’s an echo
An echo of a world where life was green.

Now the meadow is gray
Gray as the storm clouds, they say
The grass is yellow, yellow and thin
Like the bark of the birches that rips in the wind
The bumblebees ask, how will it fix?

The trees are bare, bare as a thistle
Because the leaves never grow
The sky is pale, pale as milk
It’s missing the sun’s healthy glow
How does it fix?

The bumblebees fly
Over to the meadow
They ask it why each day in its shadow
How will you fix?

The meadow answers with a mighty storm
With rains that wash the land
Now the flowers grow from the grass and preen
Now the sun shines on the outlying trees
Now
The meadow is green.