The Homing Pigeon
As a child
I liked how its life
fitted so well within
my clasped hands,
the feel
of its smooth head,
the silky
one way fall
of feathers down
to a turquoise collar,
its tight form
loaded like
a coiled spring
beneath all that softness,
gathered ready to launch
and lift with wings,
letting it go
and most of all,
its coming back.
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