Below me, I watch
A pigeon rest
Its miniature talons
On the railing of the fire escape,
Spreading and flapping its smoky wings.
Down in the street,
Echoes of car horns
Resound one
After another
Into the far reaches
Of the evening air.
Across the street,
In the windows of a building,
A white-haired man shuffles forward
Closing his dark shades;
A young woman sways on the phone.
I lean against my windowsill
As the golden light fades from the street.
A helicopter whirs over
The looming buildings.
I tire from the boisterous life.
YOU ARE READING
Odds & Ends: A Book of Poetry and Stories
PoésieCOMPLETE A random collection of original poetry and short stories Featuring original photography
