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Birds of a Feather

In New York, people move so fast,
Tall buildings line your sight.
When the sun sets, lights turn on,
Bright as day in dark of night.

In urban streets you wouldn't think
That wildlife abounds.
But there are many animals
On these concrete grounds.

In Central Park you see, of course, 
Birds of different hues.
Squirrels, Raccoons and Mice you'll see
Romping within your view.

But the animal that you'll see most 
Is the common street Pigeon.
The City Bird of New York,
And that's where we begin...
Our Pigeon today has just moved
Into the borough of Manhattan,
From the relative quieter place
Of an island we call Staten.
On his own for the first time,
While an avenue he crossed,
He found himself a bit lonely
And feeling a little lost.

Seeking a flock, the right fit-
A place he could belong,
But everywhere that he looked,
Things seemed to just go wrong.

First he tried a group of birds
Outside a hot dog stand.
Cooing "Hello!" to them all,
Things did not go as planned.

They pecked at him, wings aflap, 
Pushing him aside.
"There's not enough!  Go get your own!"
At him they had cried.
Not discouraged, he took flight.
On a building of high design,
He spied a row of Pigeons
Side by side in a long line.

He landed right beside them,
Cooed, "This building is so tall!"
But everyone ignored him-
No one talked to him at all.
After trying many times,
He flew off once again, 
Determined to succeed
And make some brand new friends.

As he flew, many birds
Soared in a huge, grey cloud.
He changed his course to join them,
Hoping he would be allowed.

But the flock wouldn't let him in.
Each time he did come near,
They would change direction
And away from him they'd steer.

Feeling rejected and alone,
He perched on a big rock
Within the wooded Rambles
By the pond in Central Park.

His little head did hang low,
Pigeon tears rolled down his beak.
"Why are you so, so sad?"
He heard somebody speak.

Pigeon raised his head to see 
A Chipmunk by his side,
Whose head was cocked with great concern
And kind eyes opened wide.

Pigeon spoke of being lonely
And his failed pursuit
To try and make some brand new friends,
And how he got the boot.

Chipmunk listened and then replied,
"I'm sorry you feel glum.
If you want, you can hang with us!
You'd be so very welcome!"

Pigeon looked with hopeful eyes,
As behind the kind Chipmunk,
Sat a Rabbit, a Squirrel, two old Mice,
A Blue Jay and a Skunk.

Pigeon cooed, "I'd love to join!"
And wrapped his wings around
His brand new friends, now gathered close,
That he'd newly found.

Birds of a Feather don't always flock together-
If with them you can't connect,
You might find the very best of friends
Are those you'd least expect.

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