Posted in Poetry

A Pigeon Pacing

A pigeon pacing is a graceless thing, a dull balloon lumbering on toothpick stilts, its gaze jumping herky jerky here and there. But when it lifts on those formidable wings, steadied by its exquisite fan of a tail, it leaves all its awkwardness behind, renewing its elegance as it climbs, then soars, one with the April winds over the roofs of the town.

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