feed the birds.

she does exist.
i saw her a couple of days ago at the park.
but she wasn't what i expected.
black jacket with red accents.
black skirt. stockings.
clean polished shoes.
classy.
refined.
eccentric.
knitted tan beret on her well-kept short gray hair.
red flowers on her hat.
perfectly matched.
white fluffy dog.
red leash.
a bag of bread she pulled out of her purse.
and i watched as she went up to a tree with an unusual low hanging branch.
a branch with shelves.
a branch that knows her well, that has maybe known her for years and years.
and she broke of chunks of bread while her little dog watched, carefully and deliberately placed the bread on the crevices of the overhanging branch and said sweetly:

"dinnertime."

a few more pieces of bread.

"dinnertime!"

and first a few, then several small and kind birds flew to the branch from the surrounding trees where I am sure they often come to wait for their supper.