The Wood pigeon.

How pretty is the Wood pigeon,
upon the hedge so green.
Billing and a cooing,
Chatting to us, it seems.

Jerking his tiny head, both this way and that,
Looking out for next door's fat, old tabby cat.

We hear him constantly flapping,
high up in our trees.
We know that he feels safe up there,
from rain and gusty breeze.

He perches with fattened body,
upon the grain I've supplied.
Then he waddles off and tries to fly ,
to where, he likes to hide.

Dusky grey-pink plumage,
And little beady eye.
A dweller of the countryside
who belongs to field and sky.

With head tucked in, sloping shoulders
hunched,
he's like an old man, who has just been out
and lunched!