Among the pigeons

I worry about the hate mail,
the cold shoulders and
gaping jaws of shocked
canine-owners
prowling around the dunes.
But I have to tell the truth.
I’m not a fan – or fancier – of
dogs. There have been
one or two. Three,
come to think of it. Jack Russells,
several thousand miles away,
they spring –
no, not Springer, I’m not
a spaniel girl –
to mind. Birds though,
there you have me caged
and perched. Captive to their thrall
from chubby cute to
sinister sleek,
swoopers, hoppers, darters
bounders,
chirpers, wailers
too-whit-too-woo-ers.
But I’ve not been challenged
to fancy furry felines.

Among the pigeons

Though I much admire a fella
called – honestly – Elvis
and can be found
scratching heads of the
curling-up-on –the-lap
kinds. But I can’t say I
really fancy
cats, either.
I guess I’m just a
plain
dragonfly
butterfly
wild rose
kind of gal.