Ode To A Pigeon

I saw a pigeon dead today,

Crushed beyond belief,

Its feathers strangely sticking up,

Its body past all grief.

It must have blazed a trail too low,

This swooping soaring beast,

Its dive into the traffic lanes

Became some truck grill's feast.

Yet how, I wondered, could it be,

This full fledged power flier, he,

Unable to brake and climb out free

To blue skied heights and wing safely?

But road shows markings, clearly proved,

Spread feathers marked by tire's grooves.

To dust, the cars press, grind and trim,

The pigeon's shadow glows so dim.

I saw a pigeon dead today

And looked up at the lined up flock

So nonchalantly clutching wire,

Cooing softly, taking stock.

Not mourning doves, whose glory turns

To hidden shadows feared concerns,

But upward, skyward, wings all earned

In perilous air, so tightly learned.

And all took flight, a clapping heard,

A dip, an angled dive, absurd,

It lives again, that poor dust, dried,

In flashing colors, death belied.