Pigeons
Can be just as foreboding as crows
Perched above a streetlight
As it abruptly goes yellow
Eight or so of them
Their bellies hanging into traffic
I met an old lady on the street
Trash spread around her like a wedding dress
I couldn't hear a word she said above the traffic
I couldn't tell if she wanted anything from me
Or if she was content to talk while I leaned against my car
Her whole life bubbling out of her  mouth
She watched her words float away
With big sorry eyes
And she cursed at me as I got into my car
And drove home for breakfast