The Mournful Call of Red Kite Chicks

Out of the pines tilted on the tip of the ridge

Wheezy cries limp across the heath

Sounds of an aged asthmatic held hostage in a loose bed of twigs

Drawing out creaky breaths in a sickly rhythm

Plaintive, pathetic pleas for attention from a speechless chest

On an open ward where the staff are busy

Taking a coffee, or answering less urgent emails

Where the breathing apparatus has been shut off

And nature’s course is entering the final turn

~

CLP 25/07/2020