Shoot into the sky
and bring down a bird
that has flown
hoping not to die.

Lead pellets mash
the flesh of this
poor bird which falls
like so much trash.

Like a muddy wet rag
it falls to the ground
as the gentle dog runs,
and his handler smokes a fag.

What was once
a finely engineered
creature of flight
lies, its feathers once
so light, so powerful
are torn and filled
with heavy metal
dragging it down
to the feet of this
gentle dog
who lifts it
like a precious child
and takes it to his
Master.

Some would respect these birds
And see the sadness, see the beauty
Some would share their flesh
Giving it to the poor as they see their duty

But some would shoot and waste
And give no thought as they use their gun
They pay their money, take their aim
And shoot pure flight down just for fun.