A Grounded Pigeon Poem by Sunil Sharma

On the terrace of the high-rise,
On this chilly December morning of Mumbai,
A bulky security-man,
- -Poorly-paid guy doing 12 hours,
Scolded by some on daily-basis- -
Feeds a cold, puffed-up grey pigeon,
Unable to fly due to some unknown reason,
With his fat but gentle hands,
Understanding the pain and fright
And isolation of the feathered visitor,
While dark crows circle in the air,
Waiting for something to happen.