The pigeon was so recently free
from its cage beneath the tree.
It had been in the urban wild 3 days
like an innocent child, but grey.
The two legs had begged for his return
but to return to that cage made his pride burn.
Everyday he saw a cat that sat,
that smugly smiled and raised paw fat
but this pigeon knew this cat was not friend but foe
because it followed pigeon everywhere he’d go.
One day the pigeon was cornered, caught;
and the cat, it smiled and raised its paw
and paused for thought as the pigeon scorned:
“He must have a million spores of evil spawned
within his skin and that is why he does begin
to everyday destroy my day,
get in my way and make me pay for some sad deed
that I’ve betrayed, for eating breathing, being grey,
much to my chagrin and dismay.”
The cat it smiled, lowered its knee that is the cradle
for the seeds. The seeds that burn, the spores that blister,
the pigeons life saved daily by a split whisker
of possible fate or divine intervention
of those hairless two legs we don’t mention.
Not part of this world, they live in houses,
fridge cheese, boil broccoli and have spouses.
The cat, it sat and smiled with wolvish glee
and tensed its evil spore filled knee.
It pounced and punched so playfully
this little bird so recently free.
The pigeon squealed, an uncooked meal
and the cat laughed and mewed a great deal
“You think the two legs can save you now?
They can’t, they won’t. To work they bow.
9 – 5 is when you are mine. Mine to catch
and mine to find.
You think they care about you, little bird?
Or will run to your squeals and sorrowed words?
This garden’s mine and so are you
so this game is forever, until you lose.
There is no honour, is no truce,
to keep on fighting there is no use.”
He raised his paw without pause for thought
but the pigeon fled and cat had caught
his hand in pale and sticky pigeon poop
from getting too close to the coop.
The cat began to scowl and mope,
to get pigeon today he had little hope.
The pigeon smiled and spread its feathers
knowing he would get peace never.
This garden was his little home
and to not be here was to be alone.
The hairless two-legs were his protectors
from this evil, feline Hannibal Lector.
This cat was cruel and pigeon was new;
he needed to learn quick at this school.
If there was one rule to remember
it was to talk to smiling cats never ever.