Pigeon Talk

Pigeon Talk

I remember 

the beat of blood,

the small nudge of a landing,

tiny rushes of residues of flight,

the growing gristle of attachment.

I remember the pleasure of a pulse,a soft nearness, a nestling close.

 I remember the sound of crisis,the crack of terror, the shell shatter.

The light. The wonder. Cold and colour.

The crystal sharp edges of the sky.

I remember the flap and flutter 

 of wings.

 I remember the harsh caw

and crow of hunger

and the flight that followed.

I remember the warmth of foraged food,

the harshpeck of a beak, the tug of need.

I remember the blue sea beckoning, clouds calling, rising alone,

breaking out and flying.sudden breezes, the uplifts and the whirling.

I remember your call and soft cooing,

your tender words and stroking,

my wings flapping wildly

 as I was tagged
and dated.