Photo: Ibrahim Rifath on Unsplash

I put down glue to ick their feet –

They collected twigs

To cover it.

I placed a swivel-headed owl –

They watched,

Then perched right on it.

I hung CDs on a dental-floss line –

The pigeons shrugged,

And pulled it.

My peristeronic battle is at impasse.

I call it truce.

I know I’m beat.

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: peristeronic in 53 words