Within his black cloak
lurk rainbows of color
That gleam and shift as he bends
to peck apart the intricacies
of a dead lunch, dashed
down by feckless hands—
look out!—here comes a dog.
Burnished wings unfurl,
grant to ears that wild sound:
feathers gripping the air;
black claws click on top of a sign (NO LOITERING).
The human hurries, heedless,
pulls the scavenger nose away
toward that ordained place and time
always just ahead.
A shining eye observes
an ally glide and swoop,
alight, approach,
invert the prize with glossy beak,
pin it with dexterous feet, extricate a vital morsel.
The observer lifts his sable epaulets,
brandishes his beak,
bells out an exuberant message.
He takes to the dingy air,
slides a glissando over downbent heads,
trailing a fulgent cloak—
sparks of light and wind.
Why does he remain
in these perilous canyons?
Above the persistent scruff of weeds
at the foot of the sign (NO LOITERING),
he sings on,
an undeciphered voice.