Feeding An Illusion

Pheasants on the farm track
Pheasants in the fields
Scattering 'cross the brown earth
As walkers are revealed
Up above a buzzard
Sends its piercing call
Drifting high on outswept wings
With eyes that see it all
Green feeders lure the lean brown birds
To take their fill of seed
Unmindful that this kindness
Just helps the shooters' need
Within a cage of wood and wire
Ignorant of their fate
The young so sadly unaware
That serried guns await.

Pheasants, August, 21.jpg