Her Last Friend

Her Last Friend

The sky was brimming with rich margerine light

And the pigeon walked slowly

Nodding yes to everything in its way.

It must have landed clandestinely
Because it was almost at my feet before I saw it

(Or maybe I was too clandestine for it to notice me).

Its feathers

Were fine, dark, grey filaments of rain clouds

Its feet

Were newborn earthworms with toes, nails and scales.

It was not an unusual pigeon

But it seemed so to me.

This pigeon didn't seem to know why it was here –

The wind came and it nodded yes

The dirt rose and it nodded yes

The sun burned and

Stoically, it nodded yes.

Then it pecked at the earth

And sand sprayed like water

But the ground did not yield.

It wanted a worm or some other invertebrate

Before the rain came to drive it away

And I should say that it deserved to eat

Just for being so positive.

So it pecked again

And the sand sprayed

But the ground did not yield.

It paused (as if thinking)

Tilted its head

Then pecked again.

The sand sprayed

But the ground did not yield

So it jumped and flew away.

And so did I.