This morning, within the delicate magnificence of my backyard, I fed seed to the birds. Pheasants, blue tits, robins and a single woodpecker, some long-tailed tits, a murderhood of crows, two magpies and a jackdaw chick. But no pigeons. Later, on the tv information, and in that place the place birdsong’s scorched mouth drones the skies in open stealth, I discover the place all these hungry disappeared have flown. A peoplehood of humankind and final among the many pecking-order listing, they're being supplied pigeon meals for breakfast.
This poem was first revealed within the Lothlorien Poetry Journal.
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