Lined up along the ledge,
above the streets and gutters
where they huddle together,
tucking their beaks
under blankets of dirty wings,
until nodding
and bobbing
their heads,
they take up the spin
of the world turning round—
and return to the spoils of the street,
eyes rimmed red.
* * *
Street life — Poem and photo by Mary O’Connor; poem from Dreams of a Wingless Child, collection of verses by Mary O’Connor, Wheatmark, © 2007
Life Is Full of Sweet Spots 