the pigeons
do their dancing bits
right here on the
street and call it life. If
you stay still on Sundays
you can hear the flute music
at the underpass
where they meet,
pigeon angels
singing to the winds  
wearing purple feather vests
their golden eyes raised
their beaks
waiting for crumbs

Image credit:Birte Liu

Maria Mazzenga writes poetry and fiction from her home in Arlington, Virginia.  She's collaborated on four books of art, poetry, and fiction with visual artist Roger Doyle. Most recently, she's had poetry published in The Amethyst Review, The Bitchin' Kitsch, and Eyedrum Periodically, and fiction published in Chronos.