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

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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…