On My Walk

The basin in the water fountain

Was completely full

With water and with pigeons,

Drawn there by a hot day’s pull.

 

I watched the birds all splashing,

Beaks and feathers soaking wet,

As they cooled themselves from mugginess,

Which isn’t over yet.

 

Nearby, a man played trumpet;

He was learning, that was clear,

Though the pigeons didn’t let

His muted bellows interfere.