Lee Woodman’s most recent poem to appear here was “One Touched Me on the Shoulder” (November 2018). 

Sorrow
By Lee Woodman

Loud bump outside my apartment window—
a common city pigeon returns repeatedly.

Twigs, straw, leaves take shape of a saucer,
dotted with downy feathers from her underbelly.

What’s to admire about this creature on my sill
compared to other birds? Plain. Dull.

Master craftswoman, she wedges the nest
against the frame. A touch of iridescence

ripples slightly as she eases down
to incubate one egg. Arresting. Pretty.

Zealous mother holds guard as juveniles
swoop, dive up around wind currents.

Relieved when they leave at night, she settles,
cooing her low rumble. Window gently rattles.

Eighteenth day, knowing the squab may hatch,
she sets out in the morning to feed herself.

Dignified. Regal. She will be strong,
she will protect, regardless.

The raucous adolescents cackle brashly,
loop and chase each other in the courtyard.

Careless wings slam the window, dislodge
the nest—a steep fall.

Unknowing, she retraces her path, but where?
Which window? She makes repeated landings,

red claws clinging to the sill. Her head jerks,
bobbing. Broken choking coos.

A wracked beauty slumps against the pane.
Forgettable. Unremarkable.

The row of rogues, greyish pink throats,
sit silently on the adjacent roof, heads cocked.