Window Whimsy

My collared doves
Are here again,
Plump and bouncing
In the sycamore
No leaves disguise
Their ungainly perch
Unwelded to unwelded
Mister and mrs C D
The completely flappable marriage.

On the other bough
My lordly wood pigeon,
Brightly plumaged
Alertly sedate
Beneath the feeder,
The picker
Of ill considered trifles
Responds to alarm
Just out of reach,
Keeping all in view
With his flinty eye.
A man of independent means..


JL Dec 12:08