Winter wingless prey…

Leaping down off a 216 bus
In the city centres morning
Rush-hour—one gold grey wet day.
I saw—a lone pigeon, moving…
In a tarmacs Titanic icebergs sway.
I heard his sinking engines say?
No… way? There’s just one way…?
No… I’ve not got …long …to stay…
I can’t survive this, trembling,
Warmth; inside this dying ember
“Not another sunlit morning’s sky”.
It’s a wrench just surviving,
One minute more only to die!
Oh as I watched in yawning, yellow horror
As it dredged-up enough power
…Steam and strength, failing energy,
Too stir and steal away…
Away beneath those black wheels…
Already; slowly, moving, on their way
With open eyes, I heard a gentle
Balloons pop!
But the captive people of the waves
They didn’t buoy in their hearts
They just moved on
In their own; energetic sway…
That old stationary endless way…
Over the tarmacs bleeding, red and grey!