© Ray Zimmerman 2019
In an ancient high-rise no longer prime office space,
a tattoo parlor adorns the first floor, sits opposite a shop
where a weaver works at her loom; awaits customers.
High atop the building, an unplanned resident builds a nest.
The peregrine feels hunger, jets above a decorative fountain
where a man, dashing home from work gives a wistful whistle,
feeds popcorn to pigeons whose stomachs are better accustomed to grain.
The pigeons dare not fly for the falcon descends at 200 miles per hour,
slams a fist into an unwary bird who tumbles to earth.
Falcon does not hesitate to rend flesh for she has nestlings to feed.
The tattoo artist and the weaver see the falcon, contemplate new artsy designs.