Dance

I know of pigeons

And let me tell you

I dont like them

Never have, till date

They flap their wings

And nary a sound

Is more disturbing

Unless its their grunting

Which can permeate ear plugs

And soundproof barriers

Not to forget the remnant 

of their digestive system

Which are dropped

at every nook of their encroaching seat

 

And yet, when they dive

The collective flight taken together

By this species that 

does not always live together 

Is beautiful in its synchronicity 

All leaping in the air, 

like being spoken to by

An unheard command

To twirl around with the wind

Or maybe just the air and sky

One swirl of their body

 

And then, back to being

The flying miscreants

That i continue to despise

Ever since the days of old..