The pigeon's a pedestrian that flies <br />in nature's face: he struts about on red- <br />chalked toes, rejects wide pigeon-colored skies, <br />and rudders down in parks to peck at bread, <br />peels, shells, shunning alien green of trees <br />to roost in eaves and lime a city street, <br />and take unmolested feather-brained ease <br />from bus fumes, noise, hospitable concrete. <br /> <br />So what, he bobs, panhandling is no crime <br />for birds (or banks) -updat the 'fittest' plan: <br />habit amends phylogeny, in time, <br />for waddling pigeons or for weasling man: <br />not every bird's ordained to soar or sing- <br />instinct, he thrums, can be an iffy thing.<br /><br />William F Dougherty<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/asterisk-for-audubon-rev/
