Two old birds sit in mild meditation
Surveying the passing scene.
In a tree, in the shade, sits a pigeon.
Nearby, on a bench, is me.
We’re both unremarkable birds.
But what do we care about that?
To think that we do is absurd:
Both of us happy, relaxed.
She’s hunkered right down in the tree,
Half asleep in her quiet contemplations,
Feathers fluffed. And chilled out, just like me.
Two old creatures enjoying the sun.