it drifts through the sky

unnoticed just one feather

a thin blade of gray and white

severing dreams strung across the alley

with the edge of its fall

those below turn in brief restlessness

and when they walk the streets

finding the colors of their night

thrown into the art of a wall

or pasted with the signs upon a pole

leaving them vaguely anxious and uneasy

without knowing why

the bird wheels and turns overhead