IT ALL DEPENDS

DROOPER & THE DRONE

Photo by JESHOOTS.COM  from Pexels

Drooper portrait by Joyce Barrass

You might know me as Drooper, from that lass with seed she shares,
She has that little box that takes my photo unawares.
I used to be an egg, you know, dragged up in a messy nest.
I have a wonky wingtip, though I always fly my best.

Now, sometimes when my mates and I are zooming thataway,

I see these massive metal birds soar into DSA.*

I went to watch the other day, and saw them come to ground

All flashing lights and landing gear and blimey! What a sound!

But just as I was leaving to fly back home for seed,

This little bird came buzzing by, which I really didn’t need.

He didn’t seem too bothered about resting in a tree,

I called “Do Two Coos, Taffy!” but he didn’t answer me!

Then on the ground all hell broke loose with humans everywhere,

Army, police and passengers all pointing in the air.

“Another blummin' drone!” they cried, and fetched their guns and shields,

I got a zap off something, had me flying for the fields!

The little bird’s oblivious, though he seemed in quite a spin,

I thought I’d hang around and help the little chap to win.

So from a height I aimed at them, and dropped some limey poops

“Make your escape!” I tweeted him, “while I decoy the troops!”

They had me on the radar, they had me in their sights.

Could hardly get my bearings with the lasers and the lights!

They soon forgot about me, once my little mate was gone.

The runway soon reopened and I flew triumphant home.

Now I steer clear of the airport, it’s the garden life I choose.

The drone-bird never did get caught, but he made the evening news!

*Doncaster-Sheffield Airport aka Robin Hood Airport on the site of the old Finningley RAF military aerodrome in South Yorkshire, about 15 miles northeast of my garden as the Wood Pigeon flies.

LIVING THE DREAM

Photo by Porapak Apichodilok from Pexels

Turned on the morning news

And overnight

Children

Have only gone and

Let all the animals out of their traps and cages

Inspired gangs to throw their knives into the fire

Sown woodlands to heal frack crack and landfill

No-one can pick a side now for standing as one.

Threatened ones dance in diversity out of danger

Cures and care are now funded by giving a damn

Trolls set up helplines for those they have bullied and beaten

Peace reigns with volume and vilify put on mute

Foodbanks just folk tunes hummed by long remembrance

Plastic just melting as healthy as foam on the seas

Then we

Woke up.

To ourselves.

Didn’t we?