pidgie has dwelt in the henyard a
number of years now; my daughter
and son-in-law healed her broken
wing let her fly away shooed her
skyward – several times – but after    
each brief foray she was back home
again awaiting entrance to familiar
feathers she has a strong mother
instinct: she makes little nests
and lays many eggs the size of
medium marbles all alas infertile
why don’t you find her a papa  
pigeon I ask but the reply is she  
thinks she’s a chicken besides  
the hens would kill the chicklets
when gillian removes the small
eggs pidgie undaunted sits on
hens’ eggs the fowl pay no heed
to this rude intruder they brood the
clutch too we have a photo of such
layering a hen’s nest, the owner on  
her eggs, but pidgie’s head peeps /
from beneath the hen’s bosom; she
was there first! – when I call my
daughter I always say greet for me
this unfulfilled frustrated mother
lately gillian found that a pigeon
can live thirty-five years pidgie will  
outlive me and all my sympathies

2019 Jacqueline Jackson

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