Fitzroy presents his experiences at Lloyd Park Sharing Heritage through poetry. Thanks for sharing…..
Against an angry grey sky
a speckled flock stretched wings and decided to fly
Returning, they landed.
Spindly, fine pine needle rain, sprinkled us.
Displaying their blue-green, turquoise necks
beaks pecked away mimicking machine sewing needles
constantly moving, simulating bee hive activity
on a crowded dance floor.
Others joined making it more
Amongst them a spectacular white came into eat
moving nearer and nearer to our feet.
A chequered bird supped water from a discarded rusty brown leaf.
Sensing danger, they stilled, activity ceased
then wings flapped, created turbulence and rose as one
turned, soared and were soon gone.
Reminding me of the ephemeral nature of things.
The pigeons came back to us again
pecking and cropping thrown grain.
Thin rain drizzled without ease
Blessing the gathered group.
When rain falls,it blesses us all
it wets all our roofs
an umbilical chord
connecting everything to everything.
Culumba seemed bold and yet shy
under the rain they still kept dry.
Tamed, they have served us well
As war heroes, saver of lives, decorated
bred for fancy spectacular plumage, for the vain
Eaten as tasty morsels
And raced for sport and trophies
Some of their brave deeds have witness
conveyors of documents
from Gwent to Kent
they delivered when sent.
Rain made their discovery very special.
I have passed them many times
Blind to the myriad of colours on display
thought them nuisances- to shoo away
Now I see pigeons, with clearer eyes.
Fitzroy Johnson 09.11.2013