The big pigeon settled securely
On a sturdy bough, facing East
In a ray of early sunlight
Filtering through the foliage
Bright and warm.
The bird folded into itself, serenely still.
It sat so for several minutes, unmoving.
And then the local squirrel bolted across
From a neighbouring tree
Shuddering the bird's perch!
Leaping, whirling through the boughs
Like a mad dervish!
The quiet bird tolerated the frenzy
For a few minutes
Without a hint of distaste.
And the squirrel never interfered
With that branch as it careened about.
A kind of respect it seemed.
But then, the pigeon gave up.
Peace was impossible!
It flew off into another tree close by
With thin branches like a giant fern
Which the squirrel doesn't like.
The ousted bird adjusted itself again
More open to the sky, sunnier, warmer
Perhaps more satisfactory altogether
If less comfortable and private!
And less safe!
Although I'm not sure what enemies
Pigeons must be wary of, from the sky.
The pigeon and the squirrel
So minded me of people -
With different social mores
Co-habiting insular communities
With much tolerance.
Not everyone can go elsewhere.