[Trevor Conway]

REVISION:

Title changed; two stanzas added; some other changes. Thanks for all the help.

City Pigeons

Tucked into humanity’s corners,
they coo and squabble,
flutter their gossip,
flee in noisy flight with flashes
of purple and green iridescence.

Ledges, lampposts, lines of trees
and lonely statues are worthy perches.
The waft of wings on the back of my neck
comes sudden and bold,
like a declaration.

One meanders, retracing steps,
without any sense of destination.
In fact, its course is quite attentive,
puff-chested and knight-hooded,
around a nodding female.

Others gather as I open a bag,
with no intention of sharing my lunch.
The daring court conflict,
while the careless are unconcerned by cars
and add touches to the city’s scenery:

a flat, red mess stamped on road,
a blur of droppings like TV static,
feathers scattered in bursts of fury,
their dramas set amongst us.



ORIGINAL VERSION:

Pigeons

Tucked into humanity’s corners,
they coo and squabble,
flutter their gossip,
flee in noisy flight with flashes
of purple and green iridescence.

One meanders, retracing his steps,
devoid of sense or destination.
In fact, he treads an attentive orbit,
puff-chested and knight-hooded,
around a slender female.

A flat, red mess stamped on road,
stray feathers plucked in fury,
a blur of droppings like TV static,
they set their dramas amongst us.