From my living room perch
I watch a private aviary
on my backyard porch
birds of various descriptions
small ones and large
not really favouring pigeons
who remain until each sliver is poked
leaving signage behind
that decorates my verandah. I wish
I could leap from within my debilitating
condition a stroke they say
and race across the floor to confront them.
Among the larger pile of feathers I
prefer mourning doves
who serenade me with their woes
help me remember my own feelings
of lost and alone.
Yet they still come to visit
perhaps it is the feed that arouses
or to consider this hapless soul who too
laments within the
flavour of his limitations.
After their wings scatter into view
they feed lightly
pecking in mesmerizing rhythm
until satiated. They are not
gluttonous as pigeons
and after morning repas a nap
their bulging eyes view my watching
and recording wishing
I could mourn alongside them.
© Richard L. Provencher