By Nicholas Hooper

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

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.



About Dawnings:
“Every morning at around 5am I get up and go down to my studio. After a short meditation I write down whatever is in my head, giving myself fifteen minutes to do so. Then moving over to the piano (or a more portable instrument like my Ukulele when I'm away), I improvise and record a piece of music inspired by whatever words I just wrote. It is a great way of keeping both my writing and my composing going and I call these small creations Dawnings. They are mostly unedited, like sketches, so that they keep that fresh feeling of an early morning discovery.”

— Nick Hooper