Like a Pigeon

I love watching the pigeons outside On the grass in front of my window They get up to intelligent things Pecking to clean each others faces The scene makes sense to me like The song of a thousand wind chimes Hoards of them blowing in the air My closed eyes open to the light The self aware notice themselves They are reflected in the mirror The pinnacle of the organic brain And pigeons recognize each other And calmly pose for the cleansing To take place in peaceful moments Where spiders find spiders and Make a little dance they know The ostrich does the very same It is a bigger bird but its brain Remains to be pretty small and so There is respect among animals For good scope on this pinnacle Look at how insignificant it is The brain of a pigeon was crafted With a specific purpose in mind It recognizes friend from foe It thinks within the confines Of its design and so I ponder On the limits of my thinking

CuldeSac

What are words without understanding and what is understanding without sense?

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