Old Birdman
Old Birdman sits and stares
Squinting in the sun
The sparrows eagerly await the moment
when he
Opens the white paper bag
placed upon his lap
They know him now
and his eating habits.
The bag rustles
He looks inside
No smile lights his face
as he takes out
the sandwich
Which he will share
They gather around his feet
never coming too close
awaiting the moment
he eats and drops the crumbs
He watches the pigeons on the grass
fed fat from passers-by
He hopes they stay where they are
and not chase his sparrows away.
My Words, My World 