This Infidel Poem by Allan James Saywell

The beautiful black bird, sits on the railing
Our eyes meet
There is no hate
In his mirror
I throw him bread
He breaks it into smaller pieces
With his beak
He loves this Infidel
He cares not that I have no God
I offer the wild Dog
The back of my hand
He gently licks away his fear
I stroke his chest
His eyes become soft
I whisper.in these things of nature lie trust
This Infidel will die with love
There wont be any hate in his heart
God willing