The Birds With Soulless Eyes

old man feeding the birds he stands slightly bent as he casts down the bits of bread that the birds milling around his feet devour with soulless eyes he casts each piece like a sacrament like an uttered prayer his large brown coat soiled by winter now hangs on his springtime frame old man with his bag in hand walks slowly along the fence line the rubber of his shoe squeaking like a small animal he is amused by the thought he feeds the birds once again after all that is what old men do they die slowly and they feed birds they walk in silence like a tomb casting bread upon the waters like a prayer old man feeding the birds what old man dose not dream of younger women what old man dose not wish he was young again so the birds feed upon his dying wish with soulless eyes watch him walk into the city of night with nothing but his loaf of bread and a newspaper full of yesterdays stories walking the fence line between heaven and hell on his way to feed the birds