I shooed the pigeon pair away,
Without a care to hear their words,
And back I went to Robert Frost
To read his rhyme on garden birds.
I came along with pen and ink
Opened the window to the dawn,
And found the Muse in pigeon eyes
That glared at me ‘fore moving on.
I scrubbed the floor off pigeon egg,
Which Humpty-Dumptied from the roof,
And wondered if the mother bird
Would grieve aloud or stay aloof.