common bird

free verse

I'm beginning to find myself increasingly
identifying with those birds,
which take cover under the palms of the tree
from wet drops of rain,
that crowd out of cold into themselves, their feathers,
and greyness dominates them,
and feed off bread crumbs
scattered by a soft hearted old women's hands.
As the rain beat in might
at the temporary shelter these creatures appropriated to themselves,
fear strikes their hearts.