A Walk in the Country
I walked by the river
Where it is usually so quiet and peaceful.
Crazy kids on motorbikes sounded
Like trapped bluebottles in a summer kitchen,
But the January light was still beautiful.
Jackdaws wheeled above with their sharp cries
And there were dead rabbits among the puddles,
Victims of weasels or foxes or who knows what.
Suddenly a jet-fighter ripped the sky open with a loud scream.
A gun went off, some enthusiast shooting
At the jackdaws or rabbits.
Then silence again.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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