A day out for distraction to fill a diary page <br />(the middle classes must keep occupied <br />in this age of financial collapse) . <br /> <br />Two boys escorted to the bird sanctuary <br />to maintain their education <br />in the drawn out holidays. <br /> <br />Little prepared us for the sight we faced, <br />a plethora of birds that brought <br />Hitchcock to my mind. <br /> <br />The chattering, cawing, clucking brood <br />the sad, the comic, the stir crazy antics <br />of the open prison yard. <br /> <br />We pace gingerly among them, <br />tracing a path through the living stream, <br />adults seeking a cafe, children chucking seeds. <br /> <br />Literally bitten, the hands that feed <br />also wave in self defence <br />against the avian horde. <br /> <br />I have lived near birds all my life, <br />the gormless hen, the supervising robin, <br />the crafty crow and the highway hawk. <br /> <br />These here have had their feathers clipped <br />to prevent inevitable escape, I shake my head <br />in pity as a shadow hits my face. <br /> <br />Only feet above us, backlit by the sun, <br />unpinnioned wings against the sky, I see, <br />for the first time, the full flight of an airborne swan. <br /> <br />Heading for her freedom beyond the lake's lip <br />and the bustling crowds, a freedom she preserves <br />in the lilac Cambrian hills.<br /><br />Neil Crawford<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wetlands-2/
