Daffy Pigeons
There’s a window that I often sit near when I’m penning poetry,
And there I sat one day with my head down and pen moving earnestly.
But not for long -- for out of the blue -- something thumped against the window,
And with such force that the window pane trembled and rattled from the blow.
I glanced up and saw a large wood pigeon dropping, then rising in flight,
Amazingly winging its way up into a tree and out of sight.
A wood pigeon heavy with berries, perhaps intoxicated too,
That one summer day, much to my surprise, into our pane of glass flew.
Well, within a day or two, it was back with its mate, seemingly fine,
And back up in that berry laden tree where they regularly dine.
A tree dotted with berries on which they gorge to excess, I’m thinking,
For when it comes to lift off, rather than rising, they’re ’oft seen sinking.
Hence those close shaves I see, and that heart stopping time lag before they rise,
And yes, that thump on our window that shouldn’t have come as a surprise.
Though I’m happy to have them visit us, they do cause me some concern,
And I’ve wondered if there’s a lesson here, something worthwhile one can learn.
Well, it seems to me that sometimes we can have too much of a good thing,
Or put it this way: Does overindulgence have a familiar ring?
Yes, just like that wood pigeon, we can sometimes sail too close to the wind,
Or later, pay the price for an appetite we never disciplined.
It may not be food we overindulge in, but whatever it be,
In time it could be our undoing, the findings of an autopsy.
Just like that bulging pigeon, we often don’t realize ’til we’re sinking,
Or until we’ve hit some window, and all because we’re just not thinking.
One would think those wood pigeons would know better, but it doesn’t seem so,
Hence those swoops that startle motorists, that grubby mark on our window.
Perhaps they’re just like humans, or simply intoxicated, maybe,
For I recall somebody telling us that it’s a wine berry tree.
By Lance Landall