In the square

images

 

 

Pigeons strut..strut..strut their stuff
on ruined feet,
chests pumped, nodding, searching
for sex and crumbs
pecking every pavement crack.

A child stamps her foot and they explode
whirring like shrapnel, head high
among the flinching crowd,
swing a circle round the sun..
touch down again…
strut..strut…strut…peck..

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