The pigeon's at my window.
The pigeons at my window
bash and flap the glass.
They mate, oh so frequently,
don't mind my constant laughs.
Always 1 or 2 , just sitting waiting there.
Then mayhem , more indecency ,
plays out to pigeon glare.
I saw one dead this evening
and wondered if it froze.
The cold is bitter, chilling,
lets hope it wasn't slow.
I wrote this while watching the pigeons outside my studio, the most productive thing today.
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