Penny Shuttle

COLUMBAIRE
 
The Columbaire comes to me -
 
Ninety-seven towers of pigeons
are under my sway, My Lady,
I'm the one who names them,
who decrees the colour
their wings are to be painted this year,
and all the routes they race on -
They will eat sweet almonds from your hand,
Duessa,
sip milk from the pewter stoup
you dip and lift without spilling a drop,
they'll watch you from their many-arched towers at night,
My Lady, as you walk the moon-smooth path nearby

So says the Columbaire, when he comes to me

***

Penelope Shuttle