and out fly a million doves.
I peak in to find
a pigeon in the corner.
How could I have known he would
be beneath their tread?
I step over to him –
he gives shivering stare.
A broken winged
pigeon cries
as I cradle him
under my arm.
Settled between
my elbow and waist,
he nestles himself.
The fear starts to leave
his eyes. Trust.
It’s like setting
the animals free
at the zoo,
but all the animals
are cripples.
They couldn’t leave
if they tried.
I’ll be your wings today. . .
But pigeon-
I’m sorry
I can’t take you today,
the height your wings
took you yesterday.
Maybe our flight
can be a different type.
I don’t care as long
as you get.
