with a beard you could start a family in.
a man with a soft heart and a heavy hug.
today is the day of the pigeon,
see him on the roof top
ruffling his feathers and searching,
searching for a place to fly.
eyes scan the sky,
there are many birds out there.
soaring. swooping. migrating.
it’s just that time of year.
what birds are we.
flying around, sometimes aimless,
a solid perch, a nice warm nest,
and on. up, over, down. through the trees
and to the water. I find myself a shorebird now,
scanning the coast, sitting on rocks and cawing at the open ocean.
I know you still search, rock dove.
and I hope you find your wintering nest,
maybe a cabin in the snowy mountains, with the chic a dees.
maybe a hut in the trees off a desolate lake, with the great owls.
maybe you’ll find warmth in a city, up high, with the other pigeons,
wherever you land dear friend, I look forward to knowing of your comfort, contentment and warmth.
be well on this day pigeon. and on all others.
you are loved.