It takes the coaxing of one bird in flight
To convince all the others to follow.
They could turn left, but they will all go right
Because their conviction is so hollow
That they can only do what they are told.
So they will swoop around an empty field,
A congregation worthy to behold,
And never allowing themselves to yield.
They will circle around the dying crops,
Thinking that what they see is still alive.
Life’s been taken away to distant shops
Which does not help to explain the flock’s drive.
Around and around they will always go,
No substance to their revolving air show.
John Collings 