SAN FRANCISCO POETS
Leonard Irving
Bleak Morning on Jones Street
This pigeon was scruffy.Tail feathers ragged at the edges. Old. Companionless.
Going nowhere.
Reminded me of my room
at the Elk Hotel.
Untidy. The carpet by the door worn to the burlap.
Then, through a cold San Francisco morning fog
~ the glorious sun appears.
The pigeon picks up his step,
and, head back, chest out,
tiptoes quickly into the sunlight. Suddenly I remember
my youth,
once I beachcombed for months
on the golden beaches
of the Canary Islands.
© Leonard Irving
Leonard Irving is a wonderful poet with deep scottish roots and I personally adore his warm rich voice.The ancient bards are truly present in his work and we are blessed to have his seasoned wisdom with us as well as his tender humor.