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Sunday morning

Sunday morning, on a walk with my dog.

Avoiding the middle-aged, fit and not-so-fit joggers
and the senior citizens stripping shrubs bare of flowers
are a murder of crows, pecking a dead pigeon apart.
One is trying to strip off the flesh from a wing
as others attack the meatier, juicier bits.
The joggers are careful to give them a wide berth,
while trying not to step on the discarded condom
lying alongside, for who wants seed stuck on the sole.

I cannot quite 'avert my gaze', for a horrified fascination
takes hold of me, watching the crows feast on a rare treat.
They are careful not to go near the condom too.
The gentle morning breeze, with the fragrance of fresh blossoms
and the songs of the magpie-robins and sparrows,
playing with the fallen, yellow autumnal leaves
and the soft, warming sunlight in the cold air:
do they add to or subtract from the ambience?

I don't know. Like the joggers,
I sidestep and walk on.

Comments

- W said…
interesting....yet heartless, thats what i got from it. Reading....anyways, i like it...my dog says hi.
Ozymandias said…
Thanks, -W.

It's heartless because of the people it is about. My dog says Hi to you too!