"Ruth" (Original Poem...Is This A Poem?)

octagon marigolds stubbornly bearing Halloween
black flies on orange, green leaves none
spindly legs spidering over the edge and underneath
little black spot on the sun

Flustering, flew out and into my hand
buzzed, a warbled protest while falling to land

starch marigolds keep face to the sky
birds tend to thoughts below

Today an old woman with vacant eyes held out a thin, worn, plastic bag
and grain spilled out for the doves, who stormed the streets.
They careened towards me as I walked through the veil of pigeons, and doves,

My hands empty as I think of
The First Rainbow, and The Sheaves of Boaz,
and Hitchcock Birds.

The old woman smiling now as the birds accept her gift
They block out her lonliness when they block out the sun.

I enter through the service door of the bar,
the tap pours from the grain
I take tables, listen to Sting's "Fields of Gold"
one night when the sky is black

People streaming in through the doors, pigeons and doves.