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Poetry Magnum Opus



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Seasons are like Russian dolls. Clustering
on a cafe roof pigeons warn of winter's
caravan.A homeless man begins feeding
the birds-Zachariah Pearson's plaque shivers
into life.Stories sally from Pearson's tongue.
A monument and pond become a drifters
pen and well. Night arrives to reveal flung
across the town signs saying please don't nurture
the homeless. This hobo often eats the fire
of indifference. A policeman's eyes are
handcuffed he does not see disappear
a moon stolen by the twilight.Spare
rooms bridging thorns, broken benches worn as
duvets-a flock gathers for Sunday mass.

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David W. Parsley

Barry, just speaking for myself, I think you have crafted this into a legacy quality piece. The atmosphere and symbolism "gathered" in the those closing lines, sustaining central themes of hypocricy and pervasive indifference; not to mention tightening of diction elsewhere: wow!



- Dave

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