I sit

 

         a lumpy hillock

 

on a

 

         sheep-strewn tor.

 

the hills

 

             sing

 

their gently

 

             pounding ballads,

 

to serenade me

 

             welcoming me

 

home.

 

 

 

                           then I see

 

a bird

a bag

 

locked as one.

 

beak clamped in plastic tethers

pathetic screams

defining her

pathetic fight

 

bag rips

bird falls.

 

plummeting, drowning

 

She wails for home.