A dead meadowlark
lay on the sidewalk
next to the yellow-painted
commercial parking only
curb this cold morning,
a migratory casualty
fooled last night
by big city lights
or the beckoning
reflection
of the bright dusk sky
in the window of the
fifth floor hedge fund.
His yellow-feathered breast
with the black V
like a fifties vintage sweater
unruffled, smooth, and silent.
No comments:
Post a Comment