Sunday, 4 September 2011

The Sunday Post


 Everyday I see from my window
pigeons, up on a roof ledge – the males
are wobbling gyroscopes of lust.

Last week a stranger joined them, snowwhite
pouting fantail,
Mae West in the Women's Guild.
What becks, what croo – croos, what
demented pirouetting, what a lack
of moustaches to stroke

The females – no need to be one of them
to know
exactly what they were thinking – pretended
she wasn't there
and went dowdily on with whatever
pigeons do when they're knitting.

Norman MacCaig
February 1968


Rebecca S. said...

Hee hee. Delightful.

TwistedScottishBastard said...

Sorry to say, that pigeons ar just flying rats.
I used to blast at least 4 a week when I lived in Fife.

You wouldn't believe the amount of vermin these things have on them.

Nice poem though.

The Sunday Posts 2017/Mince and Tatties.

Mince and Tatties I dinna like hail tatties Pit on my plate o mince For when I tak my denner I eat them baith at yince. Sae mash ...