Crumbs of Discomfort
I walk across a spattered square,
My bonhomie receding.
But why? The feral pigeons there
A couple think worth feeding.
Dear sir and madam, please desist,
Cut short your crust-donation.
The aftermath’s no mere Scotch mist,
But, frankly, defecation.
If you deny that, in the end,
Bread casters cause pollution,
May soon on both of you descend
Some fitting retribution.
Jerome Betts lives in Devon, England. His verse, light or otherwise, has appeared in a wide variety of British magazines and anthologies as well as UK, European, and USA web venues such as Amsterdam Quarterly, Angle, Light, Lighten Up OnLine (which he has also guest-edited), The New Verse News, Per Contra, Snakeskin, and Tilt-A-Whirl.