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Preying

I walk on frittered grass

Beneath

A cast iron sky

Only one jacket worn--

a fool's plan,

But this far out from the door,

I'll labor on.


Skin ruddy

Head down,

Kicking pine cones

In the gutter,

Black bird looms

Perched on a grey tree

Preying as I'm stepping

So I'm watching him

Watch me.


But I shoot back a look

Thru my brooding leer

And lumbering gait

Sending enough negative

Vibrations to the tree bird

That he squawks

As he jumps off and takes flight

Leaving the tree shaking.

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