The Woodpigeon
By Buzby
The evening’s tranquillity ended abruptly as the cat came into view. Everyone shouted and clapped, Alison threw her fork and at last, the cat was chased off. Next began the pantomime dash around the garden, as the pigeon flutter-hopped across the lawn, eventually seeking sanctuary beneath the rose bushes. I laughed, darted, lunged at the frightened bird as somehow it always stayed one jump ahead. When caring hands finally closed around delicate breast and felt sticky wetness I stopped laughing. The audience went quiet too, and took a step back; left me centre stage, holding the pigeon. Useless hands quickly turning crimson as the birds tiny heart hammered against my palm faltered, and then ceased. Written November 8th, 2001 © on Nov 08 2001 06:09 AM PST 0 • 10
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"The evening’s tranquillity..."