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