The Pigeon Lady
The pigeon lady makes her rounds
At seven in the morn.
About her feeding habits,
I must say that I am torn.
Along the promenade, which runs
Adjacent to the river,
She scatters seed which pigeons
Know each day that she’ll deliver.
They swoop in great big flocks to feed
And circle in the sky
Before they settle down to peck,
Ignoring passersby.
When finished with their meal, they roost
On benches and on railings,
Their droppings making quite a mess,
Among their biggest failings.
It’s cool to watch them fly in loops
And strut, like pigeons do,
Yet people lose their sitting spots,
Now flecked with pigeon poo.
The pigeon lady breaks the law
And risks a hefty fine.
To some, she is a hero;
Others think she’s crossed a line.
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