Awakening

Awakening, to see pigeons perched on my windowsill
They have invaded, taken possession
They rouse me with twittering and the occasional shriek
The morning sun illuminates my eastward facing room
The bed before me graced with pale blue flowers
My head is twisted and confused
This heat makes me long for rain
For soft boots crunching upon winter snow
Or carving a path through autumn leaves
Or anchored down by a oppressive breeze

What ghost decided to desecrate my room?
What phantom decided to embed itself in the stone?
Each night something sinister stalks me
They come in pairs, one on each side
Captured by the blink of an eye
A flash of colour, a hint of a sigh
As midnight storm-sirens wail
And roof tiles clatter to the ground
And neighbours gather to gossip
Their boots crunching on gravel