The Sun and the Moon
The Sun and the Moon
I make my way over the grass, which is covered in freckles of frost that make a soft crunch with each tiny step I take. The trees that surround me are clustered together in company, yet look lonely without their companionship of leaves. They stand tall and strong, like an army of ghost warriors that are ready for battle. I walk amongst them, lightly brushing against the rough and unkind bark as I go. There’s no sign of life in the park besides myself and the typical flock of gulls. I breathe in the nippy winter air through my nostrils, taking in the usual smell of gasoline and hot dogs. My feathers ruffle, as the light gust of cool air tickles me, making me look like a rabid animal. New Yorkers, both young and old, now jog past me with the reflection of the frosty sun glistening off of their foreheads. They don’t see me peering up at them in wonder, but I most definitely see them.
Humans are incredibly interesting to watch, as each of them has a different appearance, personality and outlook on life: individuality. The fact that these creatures are all so different, yet so similar is mind-boggling: they all look and enjoy different things, but when it comes to love they are basically all the same. All humans have someone in their life that they adore and express these emotions in their own way; there are fathers that take a Saturday off of work to watch their son’s baseball game, there are mothers that shed a tear whilst watching their teenage daughter cry over a high school crush and there are elderly men that buy a single red rose for their wives even after being married for 50 years. However, pigeons don’t have that tender side that is extremely beautiful. Pigeons prefer to venture out alone, instead of having 10 others tagging along and cooing. Love seems to be foreign to pigeons.
I seem to be the only pigeon in my group that craves loves and that hungers adoration from another. I am desperate to feel butterflies in my fat tummy when my
I make my way over the grass, which is covered in freckles of frost that make a soft crunch with each tiny step I take. The trees that surround me are clustered together in company, yet look lonely without their companionship of leaves. They stand tall and strong, like an army of ghost warriors that are ready for battle. I walk amongst them, lightly brushing against the rough and unkind bark as I go. There’s no sign of life in the park besides myself and the typical flock of gulls. I breathe in the nippy winter air through my nostrils, taking in the usual smell of gasoline and hot dogs. My feathers ruffle, as the light gust of cool air tickles me, making me look like a rabid animal. New Yorkers, both young and old, now jog past me with the reflection of the frosty sun glistening off of their foreheads. They don’t see me peering up at them in wonder, but I most definitely see them.
Humans are incredibly interesting to watch, as each of them has a different appearance, personality and outlook on life: individuality. The fact that these creatures are all so different, yet so similar is mind-boggling: they all look and enjoy different things, but when it comes to love they are basically all the same. All humans have someone in their life that they adore and express these emotions in their own way; there are fathers that take a Saturday off of work to watch their son’s baseball game, there are mothers that shed a tear whilst watching their teenage daughter cry over a high school crush and there are elderly men that buy a single red rose for their wives even after being married for 50 years. However, pigeons don’t have that tender side that is extremely beautiful. Pigeons prefer to venture out alone, instead of having 10 others tagging along and cooing. Love seems to be foreign to pigeons.
I seem to be the only pigeon in my group that craves loves and that hungers adoration from another. I am desperate to feel butterflies in my fat tummy when my