They hop, they kiss,
they turn each way,
their beaks entwined
they brush together.
On the garden fence,
they enact love-play,
totally oblivious
to the weather.
She crouches down and
spreads tailfeathers
he nods his head,
puffs out his chest,
Is this the time for
peristeronic pleasures?
Instead, he decides
in crumbs to invest.
Disappointment reigns,
she’s in a flap,
she flies away,
she’ll have to tempt
another day.
Pigeons Non-Amour
