The pigeon lady makes her rounds
At
seven in the morn.
About
her feeding habits,
I
must say that I am torn.
Along
the promenade, which runs
Adjacent
to the river,
She
scatters seed which pigeons
Know
each day that she’ll deliver.
They
swoop in great big flocks to feed
And
circle in the sky
Before
they settle down to peck,
Ignoring
passersby.
When
finished with their meal, they roost
On
benches and on railings,
Their
droppings making quite a mess,
Among
their biggest failings.
It’s
cool to watch them fly in loops
And
strut, like pigeons do,
Yet
people lose their sitting spots,
Now
flecked with pigeon poo.
The
pigeon lady breaks the law
And
risks a hefty fine.
To
some, she is a hero;
Others
think she’s crossed a line.
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