On silent wings they pass by The ancient Gods of old The scar runs deep That shut their hearts To the prayers of man Harpies perch On black wings A sound of broken glass Echoes behind Do not call our names You need new heroes New Gods, we are no more… ©AnitaDawes2022
Anita’s poem today coincides with two incidents that happened yesterday…
A very large wood pigeon decided to fly at our window at full speed. The noise when he hit the glass was deafening; I thought someone had kicked a football at us! After recovering, the bird flew away, so no harm was done.
Later, we went outside to find that the local family of thrushes had been busy digging in my bonsai pots, scattering soil all over the yard! Luckily, no harm to the trees, but I wish they wouldn’t do it…
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