It's just poetry, it won't bite

Urban Pigeons


08.30.12 Posted in words to linger on by

Jimmie A Kepler is a poet, freelance writer, and book reviewer. His poems appear in The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, Writing After Fifty, and Poetry & Prose eMagazine. His nonfiction has appeared in various journals. He is a contributing book reviewer for Front Row Lit Magazine. Visit his blog.

Urban Pigeons
By Jimmie A Kepler

White clouds
fill the Columbia blue sky, 
like hundreds of cotton balls.
The brilliance
of the summer sun
reflected even brighter
off of the clouds.
The clouds remain
suspended in the sky
with little movement.
A flock of pigeons
land on an adjacent building.
They stand on the edge 
of the ten story structure,
peering downward,
looking
for some crumb or morsel of food.
They also eye the sky
and the roof
of a neighboring building.
The birds are watchful,
as a red hawk
is perched, waiting,
waiting,
waiting
for one of the pigeons
to let its guard down
and become his next meal.
The sounds of cars,
trucks
and an occasional motorcycle
fill the air
as they travel
from their point of origin
to their destination
using the freeway
that passes
through the building’s shadow.
A panhandler
on a nearby corner
looks up at the sky
shielding her eyes
from the bright sun.
She looks to see
the airborne commotion.
The sun temporarily blinds her
with its brilliance
and then she sees
dozens of feathers
slowly descending to the ground.



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