A racing pigeon of distance ability,
His colour known as grizzle, that is
White feathers spotted with other spots
Of colour. A likeable and interesting bird
And when he was less than a year old I
Sent him for a training flight
In preparation for racing.
But upon the arrival of the flock to
My loft the grizzle was missing. So
I assumed that he had been hawked
Or had an accident and died. So as part
Of the sport I placed him in the past and
Went on with what was required of me
As a committed membe.
Then one day I received communications
From a vet within some miles from my
Home enquiring if I had lost a pigeon or
Knew of anyone who had. Following
Our conversation I drove to the vets
And upon presentation of the birds
Ring number I became aware that
He was definitely my grizzle.
I was informed that his wing was
Broken and the person who found
Him strolling along a country road
Lifted him and drove to the vets.
Upon recall I had liberated the
Pigeons 22 miles from their loft
Up a mountain and I wondered
How many miles did he stroll?
Oh, I’ll never know but here via
A photograph is ‘Broken Wing’
And yours truly, but alas, I regret
That I am no longer a member
Of a great sport and here’s to
- 10 Views
Find a translation for this poem in other languages:
Select another language: