## columbine 041618 pigeons carry my wisdom gulls skirl about and hunt for flashy fish, but pigeons carry my wisdom corvids stern of heart impel me towards my destiny, but pigeons carry my wisdom laughing finches titillate and flower my mornings with fifelike trills, but pigeons carry my wisdom back and forth between the warring cities of my youth and now mouth full of common nouns, this homely bird, perhaps most commonplace on earth, bobs and shuffles past my bedroom curtain, asks: do you remember this one, dad? if i say no, that pigeon’s dead. when all the pigeons die, so dead am i; put all of them and me inside a box and turn us into worms and seeds and flecks and bits to feed more pigeons