The pigeon, feet splayed,
bobs his head, looking for crumbs on the gray, stained sidewalk.
marveling at his mindless intensity.
I cannot disturb him as he steps aside, his head always moving, to let me pass.
I see the elegance of his patient walk as he balances on those claws, nibbling
until he spreads and lifts and soars –
to a park, a street, a roof.
He leaves some crumbs behind -
and I think about the stateliness of pigeons.