The pigeon's a pedestrian that flies
in nature's face: he struts about on red-
chalked toes, rejects wide pigeon-colored skies,
and rudders down in parks to peck at bread,
peels, shells, shunning alien green of trees
to roost in eaves and lime a city street,
and take unmolested feather-brained ease
from bus fumes, noise, hospitable concrete.
So what, he bobs, panhandling is no crime
for birds (or banks) -updat the 'fittest' plan:
habit amends phylogeny, in time,
for waddling pigeons or for weasling man:
not every bird's ordained to soar or sing-
instinct, he thrums, can be an iffy thing.
William F Dougherty
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/asterisk-for-audubon-rev/
