Invasive Singing
The red-billed leiothrix, a small brightly coloured bird native to subtropical Asia, is threatening to change the soundscape of the British dawn chorus.
"this is sixth form poetry, not Keats or Yeats"
The red-billed leiothrix, a small brightly coloured bird native to subtropical Asia, is threatening to change the soundscape of the British dawn chorus.
Clouds of feathers light up the sky, downy rainbows of keratin that flicker in the sun-kissed breeze. Weighed down by the heavy gaze of our
Dawn breaks over the diminishing sound of forced retreat. A chorus constrained by the bare and callow noise that permeates our bandwidth. Concerned communities trace
Flitting between skyscapes the distant strains of multitudes flicker in the air. Hidden voices perched in ebbing hues that fade into the greys. Their covert
Glassy eyes stare down from vibrant yellow crowns, solemn statues lined up for shady shopping trips to markets masked with colour. Wild or caught traded
Rising heat wrinkles your feathers, hazy offerings that prick the skin and dull desires. Smouldering beneath the surface, your blood-streaked cloak of darkest night lies
Torn from the sky we clipped your wings to buy safe passage; broken bodies lovingly preserved with a tenderness denied in flight. We stole shadows
Moving swiftly across the swamp the sparrow tentatively spreads out his territory; a phonic palisade, which he surveys with vain conviction. Contented in solitude, he
In swathes of fractured colours you wheel across unbroken skies, a kaleidoscope of memory drifting between seasons; patterns shifting sensitively to the subtleties of scale.
Beneath shadows Of Spring Mountains The rain dove arcs Across a barren sky, Its trembling shadow Rolling listlessly Above abandoned towns Of silver and gold,