Is it a ***** pidgeon?
Or an angelic dove?
As the old man bears down on the white sharp glare in the sun
Indifferent is he
And in the same way so is she
A male is twirling nearby
She ignores him as she weaves through
Ignorant to all but the trajectory of the million pedestrian feet
Eyes fixated on a Barnecutt pasty crumb
The little pink feet give chase
She gobbles down the golden crumbs
And roves on out of my view in the golden sun