Only pigeons

They are only pigeons.
They are dirty.
Does their mundanity make the fact that they fly,
their triumph over gravity,
less amazing?
Does the fact that they are commonplace,
everywhere and all the time,
detract from their miraculous, wordless communication,
that lets them swoop and dive in concord?
I choose not to think so.
I hope that makes me miraculous, too.


10 thoughts on “Only pigeons

  1. CTJen

    I’ve always liked pigeons–they’re endearing. I had a boyfriend in high school who called them “city chickens” and would joke about catching one for his dinner.

    I like your poem. πŸ™‚

  2. mike golch

    we all are Great in own own little way,some people grow up to be musicians,some become Lawyers, or Doctors,Nurses,some of Us even become every day hereos such as Fierman,Emts,Policemen.than there are the mundane jobs that no one wants but people do.I’m refering to some of the thankless jobs,corrections Officers,refuse workers,you get the idea.
    Here in Cleveland we have a section of the city called public square it is in the downtown area.there were tons of the pigeons(aka city chickens),that is untill a couple of Perigine Falcons made one of tall buildings home.The pigeons were fair game and food for them and their osprings.

  3. Cranky

    One of the attorneys that I used to work with always hated the pigeons in the parking garage. “Rats with wings” he called them and complained about them pooping on cars. Then he decided to leave the company and I found a “Fancy Pigeons” book at the bookstore and got everyone in the office to sign it for him for his going away present. Heh. ‘Cause it was snarkey and I’m mean like that. . .


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