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The heART of Ritual


Seasonal Poetry & Prose: 'Feed The Birds', by Sylvia Spencer

Birds of Britain, I watch them fly high beautiful birds as they wing to the sky. They are a star studded spangle of gracious charm. A bird on a wing so peacefull and calm. On tree top high they seem to sit forever basking and singing in all kinds of weather. They say the Rook is one mighty crook but is he, just take a good look. He has a black wing, I am not sure if he can sing; but altogether he is doing his own thing.A great big bird we all know that as a matter of fact he is the size of a cat.

The larks and the Sparrows to wake you at dawn and the Blackbird and Robin searching for worms in the lawn. Birds of Britain so many to be seen; around the town and in the country green. The Pyde Wagtail with his feathers of black and white and The Nightingale who visits when the sun's going out of sight. Jenny Wren who is Britains smallest bird has the cutest sound you have ever heard.

Birds of Britain they fly away all to come back another day. Swallow and Swift they don't stay for long, when the Autumn comes they are long gone. They journey south then return in late spring to be just another bird doing their own thing.Blue Tits and Great Tits they are all part of the crew and some of our birds are becoming very few.

There are so many birds that need our attention, the list is endless and there is no time to mention. Nesting boxes have been pulled down because of the Bird flue scare, so please feed the birds because they will only become rare.

Artist Anelia Pavlova


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