One that got away!
Eyes like an archery target, surveying the landed estate
Fed, and fed up with the surfeit of corn
Which adds so much girth to my weight
Pretty, alluring and taxing my brain
That heart-beating, drum-roll percussion
One hand, like the wing of a prayer -not a hope!
Seeing double leaves room for discussion!
Free-range and out strolling
Quite safe on the ground,
Free will to fly high in the sky
Those colours I fly with – I’m flagging just now
Are a poke for the hen friends who come flushing by!
It’s not yet December, there isn’t a sound
Not a squeak from the shot whistling by
I am bred to be strong as I’m chirping along
It’s nobody’s place to be badgering ‘why’!
What’s wrong with a harvest? Why not have some fun?
Don’t forget, you are animals too!
The sporting response to the man with the gun
Is, quite naturally, you can shoot two!