Posted in poetry

Morning Pigeon Song

With the bedroom window
Open to the ministrations
Of an awakening breeze,
I can hear across
The congregated roofs
Of the village the strange
Hollow measures of morning
Pigeon song, notes that
Might be mistaken for
Lament, given present
Circumstances in a world
The pigeon doesn’t know.


I’ve retired after a career teaching law. I divide my time now between Athens, Georgia, in the States and the south coast of Ireland.