Won't You Tell Me 'Bout the Birds and the Freeze

[shanmonster]

The pigeons are whispering to me. I feel like I'm in a strange variant of Howard Phillips Lovecraft's The Rats in the Walls.

The birds started doing it a few nights ago. They don't seem to do it in the daytime. They spend the sunny hours foraging for food, or staring at me through the window, which equates to the same thing. But while I sit here in the dark, or lie in my bed, I can't see them. Instead, I hear scritchings on the window. It's definitely augurous, but of what, I cannot tell.

Maybe it's just their way of keeping warm. I don't know how something so small can stay alive in such cold. It's about -40 with the wind chill, tonight. If I was outside wearing only a feathered cloak and nothing on my feet, I'd be dead long before morning.

Tiny fogs of avian aspiration tap against fractals of ice on my window. The pigeons knock, but I'm not letting them in.

The poopsicles on the sill are bad enough. I don't want them shitting in here, too.

Comments

[montecristo.livejournal.com]

I should think it would remind you more of Edgar Allen Poe's "The Raven (http://www.dagonbytes.com/poe/poems/raven.htm) more than Lovecraft... Somehow I am glad that good old Poe never got skunked enough to attempt a poem called "The Pidgeon." It just lacks something...

[chrysippvs.livejournal.com]

You like HP Loveditty?

[shanmonster.livejournal.com]

Well, I did, at least. I haven't read anything by him in quite some time. When I was in university, I read a lot of his stuff, though. I also read biographies on him. He was a very messed-up man with overly purple prose, but his ideas are very interesting.