the Lincolnshire wood-pidgeon

Pigeon like, she sits on the road, drawing all warmth to herself.   But there is strength here, and courage not to flinch as drivers race the Red Arrows overhead.

Sometimes, bravery is mixed with contemplation.  The pigeon sits, with an impossibly long branch in her beak, and wonders ‘can I fly?’

This is not a question to test too hastily.  One should not rush off, just because a car is fast approaching.  The pigeon knows that even humans can learn to wait, if really they must.

So she sits pondering the branch, and pondering her path.  There is a good route there, straight ahead.  Plenty of space to land if the branch proves too resistant.  She lifts her head and beats her wings, and flies — down the dotted line.

There are no wood-pigeons here.  Just feathered lions, the fearless angels of time.

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