Proud honkers, wings flapping, Beaks bobbing, surround us Delicious crumbs of bread I decorate the ground with Ravenous bird mob vying for manna Chorus of wings beating above me Air vibrating magically More regal Canadian Geese Landing on makeshift air strip Bread crumbed ground Like San Fran International Suddenly something surprising Never happened before An urgent avian beak Tugging at my pant leg Saying me, me, me My turn for some bread. Bob Boyd