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Gratefulness
Because they crowd the corner of every city street, because they are the color of sullied steel, because they scavenge, eating every last crust, we do not favor them.
They raise their young huddled under awnings above the liquor store
circle our feet, pecking at crumbs pace the sidewalk with that familiar strut.
None will ever attain greatness. Though every once in a while in a tourist’s blurry snapshot of a grand cathedral
they rise into the pale gray sky all at once.
Posted by kind permission of the poet. Photo by Jakub Pabis/Unsplash.
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