Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Day 202: Elegy for a Squab

Tragic baby bird
Tumbling from your nest to die
In a murky pool

The sizable pigeon population in the overpass near my subway stop is now one less. I'm not sure if the fall killed it or if it drowned in the scummy flood left by the latest deluge, but there it was in the giant puddle -- its small beak wrenched open in a silent baby pigeon scream. Entwined with my sadness for the tiny creature was a small, guilty thrill at seeing a baby pigeon for the first time. I'd always thought pigeons emerged, full-grown and covered in filth, from the gates of hell by way of the storm drains.

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