'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
Explodes
When she walks away
At 8:05
Folding the bag
Into a square that fits
Her pocket with a sigh.

We want to hear, did we miss an angle we should have covered? Should we come back to this topic? Or just give us a rating for this story. We want to hear from you.

Loading...

Loading...