Molly Hogan posted this wonderful photo of a pigeon hanging out at Fort Popham in Phippsburg, Maine. Molly finds a variety of places to practice her photography in her place on the earth. Birds are often her subject. You can see more photos on her Instagram and Facebook pages.
When I first looked at this photo, I thought (assumed) the yellow spots were wildflowers, but on closer inspection, they are stains on the stone wall. I did a quick Google and found that it’s maritime sunburst lichen, nurtured by the droppings of birds. So, in essence there is a symbiotic relationship here between bird and wall, pigeon and lichen. Isn’t the natural world fascinating?
Consider joining me in musing today about this photo. Leave a small poem (or even random thoughts) in the comments. Encourage other writers with your comments.
On the rock of my past,
Margaret Simon, draft
a pigeon perches on my soul
filling me with a sunburst
of your love.
A little note of connection: Molly and I both lost our fathers in 2022. We have shared lots of grief poems. When I was deep in my grief last May, a prothonotary warbler came to my window. I had never seen one close up. I gasped and thought immediately of Dad. Of course, every thought was of him, but I latched onto yellow as the color for him.
Reflections on the Teche 
I love your beautiful poem, Margaret….
Possibly sadly, I’m going to go with humor for this beautiful photo:
PIGEON SPEAKS
I wonder about this dark small space—
I’d like to sit inside there
away from all the bright, hot sun
but I won’t fit inside where
the width and depth is way to small
too tight for pigeon-flapping
and so I’ll stay right where I am
and try some pigeon-napping.
Draft (forever) Carol Coven Grannick
Clever, Carol, and possibly completely true. Nice rhyming.
Thanks, Jane!
Pigeon napping is adorable. And humorous!
Thanks for the smile!
Humor is just what I needed so thank you for the fun poem. Enjoy your pigeon-napping.
Margaret, your poem is so poignant.
The image is certainly interesting. I did a little research about parts of forts.
An embrasure once used for arms
Is now shelter.
Walls once used for defense
Are now home to sunny lichen.
If life can spring from death,
Peace must be possible.
draft, Jane Heitman Healy
Love the if, then at the end. So much truth here. It pleases me that you did research. I love it when research gives me a poem.
Such a hopeful poem. I felt hope from this photo, too.
Rose can you email me your mailing address?
Jane, I like that you researched to add thoughts on forts to your poem. Peace must be possible. YES!
a fan of feathers
a field of flowers—
grey and gold
flowing with hope
Love the alliteration of f sounds.
Margaret, the natural world is indeed fascinating. I like these lines: “filling me with a sunburst/of your love”.
Rose, I love the insertion of the word, hope. It is a powerful word.
Beautiful language and message, Rose! Love the alliteration
“On the rock of my past…a sunburst”…beautiful! Grief is such a presence. Never leaves completely. Poetry helps.
Quick Write
emblazoned wall
with artistic rendering
bird sighting notice
CVarsalona, 2023
Especially like “emblazoned” and “artistic rendering,” Carol