The birds in my garden don’t listen to the news,

can’t know of Assad’s brutality

or of families struggling in poverty or grief.

Their exuberance counters John Humphrys’ bombast.

The midges floating in spring scent disregard Ahmadinejad

and Israel’s threat of nuclear holocaust,

are blind to death on Syrian streets,

lost in their dizzy dances around daffodil and bluebells.

Buds burst forth despite Euro crises or Greek debt.

Young leaves hiphop to the wind’s gentle tune,

drowning out terrorism’s threat,

political sniping and suicide bombings.

Song thrush and blackbird celebrate the sunrise,

their chorus more compelling than a muezzin’s minaret call.

Two dragonflies hover over pond water,

butterflies swoop beside buddleia bushes,

ignoring mankind’s eternal battles,

defiantly oblivious to global broadcasts of doom.