Posted in poetry

Not Yet Ready

There’s a late August 
Restlessness in the
Congregation of pigeons
That keep counsel
On the line of roof
Over the old convent.
When they go,
They go together,
Rustling into a salient
That disappears
Next door, then
Thinks the better of it
In half a breath and
Heads back to sanctuary,
Not yet ready.

Author:

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.