On my lunch break

Pigeons are brazen and annoying.  But I still don't like it when people kick at them.

I've come outside this afternoon to feel the sun on my face.  And that's okay, since I'm wearing spf 15.

Someone muttering about God sits on my left.  The man on my right is arguing with someone who isn't even there, or is at least not visible to the general public.  He smells.  The pigeons are everywhere.  But I don't kick at them because I'm a good person.

Behind me, by the Irish Famine Memorial, a singer accompanies himself on acoustic guitar.  His singing style sounds like someone familiar, but I can't quite pinpoint who.  He sings Wonderwall, but he's singing it slowly, gloomily.  The Gallagher brothers would be none too pleased.  I picture them scowling at him, in a manner most surly.

When the breeze blows it's cold and stings my skin.  But just as soon as it arrives, it suddenly subsides.  It reminds me of being at the beach, when a cloud moves in front of the sun and momentarily blocks out all the warmth and light.  The sun is hidden, but I know it will return if I'm patient.  I'm trusting that life is like the weather. 

My break's over.  Time to go back inside.  Later, pigeons.

 

Comments

[Stacey]

I believe the weather has you waxing poetic. It's nice. Have a great weekend!!

[the odd broad]

You too, Mama-to-Be!

xoxo