I am Jim, bird number one-hundred-and-twenty-four.

For Government Pigeon Service, I was recruited, in time of War.

Why would they use a little bird such as I.

Because, I am really inconspicuous, up in the sky.

My job is to deliver messages, from A to B.

I am crucial to the war effort, as you will see.

Gas, gas, gas, I hear, what is that sound?

What are those words, down on the ground?

To me a container is attached and skywards I must fly.

To a place called home, but, I know not why.

Sorting out the journey, I must fly.

I look down from a darkened sky.

For Magnetic North, I circle and look around.

At last, the way home, I have found.

I can fly fast and also so very true.

But my journey is marred, by you know who.

A shadow descends, swooping down on me.

Looking up, his talons, I clearly see.

A German hawk, has been sent to bring me down.

But I am a fast-racing pigeon, of great renown.

His talons extended, sharp and thrust out.

I know what this tussle, is all about.

It is not for glory, or helping the Hun.

It is his life, for food, not having fun.

It is life or death, this message must get through.

Many human lives rest on me, they really do.

Jiggling and swooping, so much, rests upon my skill.

As down he swoops, trying, to claim his kill.

Doing my best, my instincts comes to the fore.

Relying on training, which I always thought a bore.

Feathers fly, as his claws, scrape down my back,

But he was too slow, with that first attack.

The predator, this time, is no match for me.

But another day or time, he, might luckier be.

I am a target, for those German soldiers down below.

Bullets fly round me, but miss, as on I go.

The miles fly past, as my destination I can see.

A feed of seed and water, will be my fee.

My message contained, orders from the front line.

Hoping to get reinforcements, there in time.

My little effort, will help the war to end.

As I fly home, to my best friend.

How can life be so kind, day in, day out.

I am Jim, the luckiest pigeon, there is no doubt.