A Murder Among the Flock

An unexpected toothsome grin
Caught from one small corner of mine eye
From betwixt the shady building
And three fellow shuffling passers by

Unmoved by the baritone melody
Of the mendicant monks in a row
Unaware of the thirsty knock down fight
Or the subway rumbling down below

Suspended as if time stands morosely still
In the midday crowd is a winsome face
A once dormant psyche no longer obtuse
To the insane rantings of the human race

Along the lines of the power grid
Not the rabblerousing son of a sheepherder
Instead obsidian eyes that smile
Ready for flight yet amidst the murder