An urban man for all my life, I’m used to city pigeons

 And recognise that you are different, plain grey with a smidgeon

Of white on the neck and a dull pink breast, plus a douce demeanour

In contrast to the aggressive cadging of the city broods. In feel you are

basically shy, but knowing gardens are safer than country woods, want

To strike up relationships with the two-legged animals that haunt

Them, by coming from your nest in the maple tree to stand upon the lintel

Of the gate where you, male and female, can be seenfrom the window

Of the kitchen, keeping a quiet watch, perhaps in expectation of food

From us, although nuts, berries, fruits, and seeds are close by, a good

Menu which contributes to your sleek well-fedness. You are lifetime

Partners with two eggs per brood, of which you may have at least five

A season, making you a successful species. We have found

Your gentle company genial. Meanwhile you have worked a turnaround

By studying us, noting our mealtimes to visit us then, giving us a calm stare

if we come out, trusting that we are your friends in this garden, and paired

like you. What else you know of us we cannot know except that as we

observe behaviours of another species we may know what we see

but not what it means. Today, checking on weeds in the clear sunshine,

below the maple tree, I saw you including me this one time

as you looked at the mangled body of your mate splayed on flattened greens

the cat from next door has left behind. We both know what this means.