The mornings are the nicest time.
The softest, sweetest.
My bed holds me close as possible while I track remnant trails of dreams behind my eyes …
So often the droned flutter of scurrying, new-day duties carry my mind up to your scrappy nest, or your fictitous body down to my favorite pillow.
-Where I cradle you.-
and you coo to me of your endeavors,
and your take on the world below,
and how you feel about your family,
and what you discuss when in unison.
I get to ask you questions on aviation, hierarchy, and simple philosophy.
My nose pressed against your dusted feathers, perfect puffy fragile belly,
rapid fire heart.
Outside~ where you really exist you are poached, and purposeful, and street wise.
-A real city slicker.-
You will be the last to die. You who’ll consume anything.
Little piggy. Little rat. Little pigeon.
Oh, soiled, little dove, I want to know you.
I dropped to my knees when you perched on my screen!
Did you move in above my window because you sensed my loyalty?
My awe for and respect to you?
Your song makes me feel at home, in summer, on a fire escape, skinned knees hanging down, streets below.
Your hum is my vehicle of transport~
On your wings I wander light,
Inspired to create in your honor.
Pigeon Heart Ponderings 
This is great!
Thanks La La *
This is really nice dear good job
Thanks, Legs (;
All this time i wondered “y”,
She named her blog of bird in sky,
Was it this,
or maybe that,
Did she pull this from a hat,
My place was not to reason “y”,
So left each time with sigh “y” sigh,
But not today shall i leave this way,
For the answer came in this blogs uniquely creative way. 🙂
I’m sorry for messing about in your comments,but i’ve been trying to figure the title since the beginning… 🙂
AS WAS I!!! And thanks to your poem, I now have a newfound appreciation for pigeons, or shall I say “soiled, little doves?” Before reading this, I always feared pigeons because I am a walking toilet, and while folks say it’s good luck to get shat on, I hate it. In fact, I’ve been pooped on so often I developed a phobia of walking under trees and bridges. But now, they’re quite cute!!!
BTW, I love this line: “Your hum is my vehicle of transport~”
Yes!!!! You wrote me a poem!! I love this. Here’s a bit more explanation for you curiosities on my pigeon preferences… https://pigeonheartponderings.wordpress.com/2011/09/22/todo-es-bueno/
Whooopsy. Emily! That response was for Micheal Jones above. BUT I am sO glad that you found a space for pigeons now. That pleases and tickles me. You should check out this one too- it’s an entire different spin on pigeon appreciation: https://pigeonheartponderings.wordpress.com/2011/09/22/todo-es-bueno/
You crack me up, you pretty little walking toilet. I can (unfortunately) relate. I think I was pooped on by a terradactyl earlier in the spring. So much!
Thanks for the love (:
That is a wonderful place where the day hasn’t yet decided itself and the songs of our dreams can still be heard, and wonderful again that you see who’s singing for you and you let your heart open to that dear winged thing, a completely extraordinary ordinary bird who carries your art into the world. Yes!
*love your feedback always (: *
This is a beautiful poem with lots of imagery. 🙂
Thank you very much (:
“My bed holds me close as possible while I track remnant trails of dreams behind my eyes …”
ahhh, in love!
**blushes*
beautiful poem, well understood by one that has lived in “the city” with friends and dreams that extend the images and heart. you have a beautiful heart! Linda
Oh, Linda* How sweet are you?! I’m so glad you felt it. Thanks for the kindness. Can’t wait to scope yours. xo