POEMS

THE RAID by Stephen Wigley, of Mickleover They appeared as distant black specks

Low in the sky, the winter sun behind them Rendering them difficult to spot. Rising and falling slightly, in loose formation,

Clearly looking for trouble.

Following the formation leader, they wheeled,

Seeking their target, confident in their numbers.

I shrank back slightly, hoping not to be seen,

In hope that they might pass overhead

And hunt elsewhere.

They clearly knew what they were about,

The formation splitting in all directions,

Dividing my attention, some climbing overhead

While one group swung in from the side,

No chance that they would go elsewhere.

I crouched behind the partial shelter of the window sill My binoculars lowered, no longer necessary.

Ready to note their number if nothing else,

For I was familiar with their markings.

I half turned, calling back over my shoulder –

“The starlings are back on the bird feeders!”

DRIVERS by Anne Thompson, of Mickleover I’m driving along the busy road sticking to the speed limit sign. My old lady does as she’s told. I brake and she slows down, I accelerate and she speeds up, We work together as a team. My old lady likes to keep me safe, She keeps me a safe distance from the car in front.

So why is it, the car behind, is nearly in her boot?

I can see you; don’t you think , you won’t make me go any faster, you will not intimidate me.

My old lady and I purr and sing along, taking no notice, of the car so close,

The driver still on his phone, We’ll soon be there, won’t be long. I hope the driver and car who was nearly in our boot will have his car as long as us,

I don’t think so,

He got tired of following us, He’s headed off at full speed only to be caught by police camera team...