The pigeon is a miracle of digestion,

like a 747 lands anywhere it can find a space

flaps down to decimate the garden plan

of spring delights.

Like the whale with plankton

the succulent buds it doth consume,

and once re-fuelled, flaps up

its beady flight it doth resume.

 

For the rest of the year its diet is basic,

then it dreams of long distance and messages carried,

delivering its splats on houses and flats

bringing curses from the mouths of those below.

Knowing its aerial Boeing ways

we pray for diversions and delays.