Pigeons on my window

I miss the 2 pigeons that perched themselves on my window in the mild evening sun. When I returned from work, the day’s cares and noises got lightened in their soft cooing.

While I sipped tea, my little daughter fed them with crumbs from her own hands. The pigeons gracefully flapped their fair wings and cooed as if to thank my daughter.

I watched this scene from a distance. For the pigeons my daughter was a friend and I stranger, so I feared their flying away by infringing their safe area.

If any day an unavoidable commitment took us somewhere else at the appointed hour, we placed the crumbs for our revered and innocent guests.

But sadly this holy practice of ours broke when the traffic of daily cares made us busy, even forcing us to leave home for several days.

During that time, those holy doves would have waited upon my daughter. Evening upon evening thus going by, in disappointment they would have left frequenting my window.

So sweet, so pure, the pigeons that visit me no more.

So lovely, so blessed, the creatures that purged me of ego-provoked ambitions.

So holy, so wise, the teachers that taught me how to meditate and cherish the present.

So kind, so true, the angels that learnt me appreciate the humbler pleasures of this life.

So learned, so prudent, the birds that opened my eyes to the idle sport of this world.

So grateful, so cultured, the beings that bred the spirit of thankfulness in me.