Monday, April 04, 2011

Poem: Figures of eight

Above one of the houses at the back of our garden there is a man who keeps homing pigeons, which he's trained to fly in figures of eight. Stunning and beautiful to watch. But you have to wonder, do they not feel a little dizzy after a while?

Figures of eight
Figure of eight,
Figure of eight.
All that you fly in are
Figure of eight!
By rights you'd get dizzy
And hit chimney pots,
Or get lost and land on
A crane by the docks,
or even fall into
Someone's pegged up socks
But somehow you make it home safe, never late,
After flying your figures of eight.


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