Pillar o Hercules
Female and male helmeted, mini-Hermes
The pair flutter in French green coats
Beaks polished and poised to pick
Crumbs at the Pillar of Hercules bench
January rain has worn a trench below us
And a scale of dropping notes
Is a thread of liquid music
a Pacific under their flights
A Length of dark below their relays
Alongside us, coffee drinking
Wrapped up
thinking of Monday
And a race where no wings exist.


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