'A True Story in Winter'

Every morning at eight
The same lady sits
On the same bench in the park
To empty a paper bag of bread crumbs
And the same bomb of sparrows
When she walks away
At 8:05
Folding the bag
Into a square that fits
Her pocket with a sigh.

of 5 stories this month > Get unlimited stories
You've read 5 of 5 free stories

Only $1 for your first month.

Get unlimited Monitor journalism.