I first noticed the pigeon in the road

When the bus turned towards the terminus

It had been killed by a bus or a tram

Within the hour as its feathers were fresh

And blowing in the grey sea breeze

For this was a coastal town

 

I was about to photograph the bird

When a girl with a slender face

Enquired of my odd activity

My explanation was that I was capturing its soul

Within the memory of my device

As without this the creature would face limbus