People at the bus-stop
Looked shabby and unkempt.
There was no word spoken,
No sociable attempt.

Some looked ill or forlorn
Some old, trying to cope.
All the people waiting
Seemed rather short of hope.

Sitting at the bus-stop
I heard beneath the seat,
A rustling and pecking
Just inches from my feet.

Then I saw a Starling
Head in a paper bag
He was busy trying
Its contents out to drag.

Such jewelled plumage!
What brave effort made.
I did not dare to move
In case he was afraid.

Then the Starling fluttered
A short distance away.
I quickly took the chance
To really make his day!

I shook the paper bag
A sticky bun fell out.
Once more the Starling came.
Such eagerness – such doubt!

People at the bus stop
Smiled pleasurably to see
The bird dart at the bun
With new audacity.

We visibly brightened
As he seized a big slice.
And everybody waiting,
Looked positively nice!


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