by Maggie Storer
From this vantage point, we overlook
a panoramic scene of brick and tiles,
and down below a small and winding brook
secretes the waiting heron’s cunning guile.
House Martins return tucked under eaves.
We watch them skid and dip against the sky.
Our shed a welcome home to nesting bees.
A goldfinch, red and yellow, flashes by.
No wings of war now land in dust blown fields.
No parachutes escape the leaden sky.
With trails, red, white and blue they skim the trees;
Red Arrows’ aerobatics flying high.
Perton settlers made this place their home.
From Air Force fields we made this land our own.
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I have been interested in creative writing for many years and now help to organise Codsall Writing Group. We invited Jane Seabourne and later Bert Flitcroft to run poetry workshops for us and that is when my love of reading and writing poetry began. I love that butterfly moment when you know that a poem is working. I submitted my poem after hearing about the collection from Bert Flitcroft, and Facebook where I follow various poets and writing related groups. My inspiration for this poem came from looking out of my window. We can see over the rooftops of Perton and I thought about how it must have looked during the war when it was an airfield. – Maggie