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Home to Roost-Jane's Sunday Sermon
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Home to Roost-Jane's Sunday Sermon

one day a man was walking down the street
and a pigion hovered right over his head
and did what hovering pigions tend to do.

The man was dressed to the nines, on his way
to a party, and he did what dressed to the
nines men sometimes do.

He cursed the pigion out and hit him hard to
get him out of the way.

The pigion dropped to the ground. His wings
stopped flapping, his eyes closed. He lay
motionless on the soft road.

The dressed to the nines man kept walking
taking no notice of the downed pigion.

Soon the sky began to fill with pigions.
They came from everywhere.

They came from the cities and small towns
They came from rural mountains and from
seaside villages. They even flew across
the oceans when they heard a pigion was down.

Three mother pigions quickly alighted near
the downed pigion licking his face and taking
care of his broken wings.

The rest of the pigions followed the dressed
to the nines man as he made his way quickly
from street to street ducking into narrow
ones to try to avoid the every growing flock.


Finally, the dressed to the nines man arrived
at his desination.

It was a large gleaming house over-looking
a green valley where smaller homes with
smoking chimmneys told the evening sky it
was almost dinner time.

Fancy cars and even some antiquated horse
drawn carriages were parked in the large
circular driveway.

Women in ball gowns and other dressed to
the nines men made their way into the
large gleaming house quickly passing the
dressed to nines man and holding their
nose as they hurried by him.

Dressed to the nines looked up at the
ever present and always growing flock
of pigions and smiled ever so slightly
realizing he was about to rid himself
of the angry pigions.

He sauntered up to the front door of the
gleaming house where the Mayor of the town
was greeting his guests.

The Mayor abruptly stopped shaking hands
and stared at the man who was now covered
with pigion dung. He looked up at the throng
of pigions that surrounded the dressed to
the nines man and quickly closed the door
saying to him:

" I see your chickens have finally come
home to roost"

"But Your Honor," the man protested,

"They are not chickens, they are only pigions!"

It was too late, the large wooden door on
the mansion had swung shut and was locked.

Inside you could hear the music of a quartet
as they played the melodies of a ball.

The dressed to the nines man turned to make
his way back through the winding streets
and narrow alleys from which he came.

No matter which way he turned, he could not
rid himself of those pesky pigions.

When he arrived home, the downed pigion,
tended by the Mother pigions, was sitting
on his door stoop waiting for his return
and blocking his way.

Inside were thousands of pigions, some
sitting at his dining table eating his
fruit, some perched on the fire mantle
pecking at his paintings, some watching
TV and changing the channels, others
just flew all over the large living room
exercising their wings.

The dressed to the nines man became distrought.

He took out a gun and tried to aim it at
the maddening crowd of pigions.

A large, quick thinking pigion batted it
from his hands and four smaller pigions
picked up the pistol and flew it away.

He ran to his garden and found some tomatoes
that had falled from the vine and began
to throw them at the pigions wildly one
after another. Each missed it's mark.

As dusk turned into night, the pigions
gathered round the dressed to nine man-
three each taking each of his legs in their
beeks, 10 got under his large girth, three
positioned themselves under his arm pits
while one guarded his neck and head.

Up the man went into the night sky, carried
deftly along by the pigions.

When morning came, he found himself at a
neighbors chicken farm, locked in a chicken
coop.

He began to yell for help. No one could hear him.

He looked around the coop. No chickens were in it.

A single pigion was guarding the coop door.

"Where are the chickens?" he asked of
the guard.

"They have come home to roost" was all the
pigion said as he turned his back on the
dressed to the nines man.

And the moral of the story is...

a) Never mix up pigions up with chickens
b) Never harm a pigion
c)Never underestimate pigions
D)Never underestimate chickens
e)Never underestimate the power of wing flapping
f) Don't mess with pigions or they will soil
your clothes.
f) None of the above.

Or...

You can write the ending to your own story
which is all any of us can really do.

Have a great Sunday.

Go get um
Jane

Jane Mark
Sokule, Inc
http://sokule.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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